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NUMBERS 266-805 

THE delay of the publication of this Ninth Part of the English and Scottish Ballads 
has been occasioned partly by disturbances of health, but principally by the necessity of 
waiting for texts. It was notorious that there was a considerable number of ballads among 
the papers of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, and it was an important object to get possession 
of these, the only one of the older collections (with a slight exception) which I had not had 
in my hands* An unexpected opportunity occurred upon the sale of Sharpens manuscripts 
last year. All the ballads, including, besides loose sheets, several sets of pieces, were secured 
by Mr Macmath, and turned over to me (mostly in transcripts made by his own hand) with 
that entire devotion to the interests of this undertaking which I have had so frequent occa- 
sion to signalize. A particularly valuable acquisition was the "old lady's complete set of 
ballads," mentioned by Scott in his correspondence with Sharpe, which was the original of 
most of the pieces in the Skene MS. 

This Ninth Part completes the collection of English and Scottish ballads to the extent 
of my knowledge of sources, saving that William Tytler's Brown -MS. has not been 
recovered. Copies, from Mrs Brown's recitation, of all the pieces in this MS. are, however, 
elsewhere to be found, excepting in a single instance, and that of a ballad which is probably 
a variety of one or another here given in several forms (No 99 or No 158). 

I have to thank Mr MACMATH once more for his energetic and untiring co-operation ; 
the Rev. WILLIAM FINDLAY, of Sabine, for permission to make use of his ballad-gatherings ; 
JOHNSON, for texts; Professor WOLLNER, of Leipzig, for the most liberal assistance in 
Slavic matters ; Mr KAARLE KROHN, of the University of Helsingfors, for a minute and 
comprehensive study of the Esthonian and Finnish forms of No 95 ; Dr AXEL OLRIK for 
Scandinavian texts and information relating thereto ; Professor KITTREDGE for notes ; and 
Mr R. B. ARMSTRONG, of Edinburgh, Dr AKE W:SON MUNTHE, of Upsala, Miss M. H. 
MASON, of London, Mr ALFRED ROGERS, of the Library of the University of Cambridge, 
Mr H. L. KOOPMAK, late of Harvard College, and Mrs MARIA ELLERY MACKAYE, for kind 
help of various descriptions. 

It is intended that Part X (completing the work) shall contain a list of sources, a full 
and careful glossary, an index of titles and matters and other indexes, and a general preface. 

F. J. C. 

APRIL, 18M. 


FOB texts, information, or correction of errors, I have the pleasure of expressing my 
indebtedness to the following gentlemen in Europe : Mr ANDREW LANG ; Mr J. K. HUD- 
SON of Manchester; Professsor J. ESTLIN CARPENTER of Oxford; Messrs W. MACMATH 
and DAVID MAoRrroHiE of Edinburgh ; Mr W. WALKER of Aberdeen ; Dr AXEL OLRIK 
of Copenhagen ; and in America to the following ladies and gentlemen : Miss MARY C. 
BTTRLEIGH of Massachusetts ; Miss LOUISE PORTER HASKELL of South Carolina ; Professor 
KITTREDGE, Dr W. H. SCHOPIELD, Dr W. P. FEW and Mr E. E. GRIFFITH of Harvard Col- 
lege ; Professor W. U. RICHARDSON of the Harvard Medical School ; Dr F. A. MORRISON 
of Indiana, and Mr W. W. NEWELL, editor of the Journal of American Folk-Lore. The 
services of Mr LEO WIENER of Harvard College have been at my full command in Slavic 
matters, and had time been at my disposal would have been employed for a much wider 
examination of the very numerous collections of Slavic popular songs. Mr G. F. ARNOLD, 
late of Harvard College Library, obligingly undertook the general bibliographical index at 
tfee end of this volume ; but the labor proving too great for his delicate health, this index 
was completed by my friend Miss CATHARINE INNES IRELAND, who besides has generously 
devoted a great deal of time to the compilation or correction of all the other indexes and 
the preparation of them for the press. Still further favors are acknowledged elsewhere. 
In conclusion I would recognize with thanks and admiration the patience, liberality and 
consideration shown me by my publishers from beginning to end. 

F. J. C. 

[The manuscript of this Tenth and final Part of the English and Scottish Ballads 
(including the Advertisement), was left by Professor Child substantially complete, with the 
exception of the Bibliography, and nearly ready for the press. The Bibliography, which 
Miss Ireland had in hand at the time of Professor Child's death, has been completed by 
her, with some assistance. In accordance with Professor Child's desire, and at the request 
of his family, I have seen the present Part through the press. My own notes, except in the 
Indexes and Bibliography, are enclosed within brackets, and have been confined, in the main, 
to entries in the Additions and Corrections. Acknowledgments are due to Mr MAOMATH, 
Professor LANMAN, and Dr F. N. ROBINSON for various contributions, and to Mr W. R. 
SPALDINQ for reading the proof-sheets of the music. Mr LEO WIENER, Instructor in Slavic 
Languages in Harvard University, has had the great kindness to revise the Slavic titles in the 
List of Ballads, the List of Collections of Ballads, and the Bibliography. To Miss IRELAND 
I am especially indebted for material assistance of various kinds, especially in the proof- 

G. L. K.] 

JAKUJLBT, 1898. 



(Additions and Corrections . V, 279.) 




(Additions and Corrections V, 303 ) 



(Additions and Corrections . V, 280.) 


(Additions and Corrections V, 303.) 


(Additions and Corrections . V, 303 ) 

274. OUR GOODMAN 88 

(Additions and Corrections V, 2S1, 303.) 


(Additions and Corrections V, 281, 304.) 



(Additions and Corrections V, 304 ) 


(Additions and Corrections V, 305.) 



(Additions and Corrections V, 305.) 




284. JOHN DORY 131 



(Additions and Corrections V, 305.) 


(Additions and Corrections : V, 305.) 


289. THE MERMAID 148 


291. CHILD OWLET 166 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 305.) 




294. DUGALL QUIN 165 

(Additions and Corrections: V, 305.) 

295. THE BROWN GIRL 166 

296. WALTER LESLY 168 

297. EARL ROTHES 170 

298. YOUNG PEGGY 171 


(Additions and Corrections V, 306.) 





304. YOUNG RONALD 181 


(Additions and Corrections V, 307.) 


(Additions and Corrections V, 307.) 






3. The Fause Knight upon the Road 411 

9. The Fair Flower of Northumberland 411 

10. The Twa Sisters 411 

11 The Cruel Brother 412 

12. Lord Randal 412 

17 Hind Horn 413 

20. The Cruel Mother 413 

40 The Queen of Elfan's Nourice 413 

42. Clerk Colvill 414 

46. Captain Wedderburn's Courtship 414 

47. Proud Lady Margaret 414 

53. Young Beichan 415 

58. Sir Patrick Spens 415 

61. Sir Colin 416 

63. Child Waters 415 

68. Young Hunting 416 

75. LordLovel 416 

77. Sweet William's Ghost 416 

84. Bonny Barbara Allan 416 

89. Fause Foodrage 416 

95. The Maid freed from the Gallows 417 

97. Brown Robin 417 

98. Brown Adam 417 

99. JohnieScot 418 


100. Willie o Winabnry 418 

106. The Famous Flower of Serving-Men 418 

144. Johnie Cock 419 

157. Gude Wallace 419 

161. The Battle of Otterburn 419 

163. The Battle of Harlaw 419 

164. King Henry Fifth's Conquest of France 420 

169 Johnie Armstrong 420 

173. Mary Hamilton 421 

182. The Laird o Logie 421 

222. Bonny Baby Livingston 421 

226. Lizie Lindsay 421 

228. Glasgow Peggie 422 

235. The Earl of Aboyne 422 

247. Lady Elspat 422 

250 Andrew Bartin 423 

256 Alison and Willie 423 

258 Broughty Wa's 423 

278. The Farmer's Curst Wife 423 

281. The Keach i the Creel 424 

286. The Sweet Trinity 424 

299. Trooper and Maid 424 









L. 'John Thomson and the Turk/ Buchan's Ballads 
of the North of Scotland, II, 159 ; Motberwell's Min- 
strelsy, Appendix, p. be. * John Tarn son/ Mother- 
well's MS., p. 615. 

B. Leyden's Glossary to The CompUynt of Scotland, 
p. 371, four stanzas. 

LBYDEN (1801) says that he had "heard 
the whole song when very young." * Moth- 
orwell's copy was probably given him by 

John Thomson has been fighting against 
the Turks for more than three years, when he 
is surprised by receiving a visit from his wife, 
who walks up to him in a rich dress, as if 
Scotland were just round the corner. The 
lady stays several days, and then gives her 
husband to understand that she is going home. 
He recommends her to take a road across the 
lea, for by doing this she will escape wild Hind 
Soldan and base Violentrie. It is not so much 
an object with the lady to avoid these Turks 
as John Thomson supposes. The Soldan, it 
turns out, has been slain ; but she goes straight 
to Violentrie. After a twelvemonth John 
Thomson sends a letter to Scotland, "to see 
about his gay lady." An answer is returned 
that her friends have not laid eyes on her in 
all that time. John Thomson disguises him- 
self as a palmer and hies to Violentrie's cas- 
tle, where he finds his lady established. Learn- 
ing that the palmer has come from the Scots' 
army in Greece, she asks whether one of the 
chieftains has seen his wife lately, and is told 
that it is long since the knight in question 
parted with his wife, and that he has some 

* He has introduced the main points of the story (in fact 
B 2, 3) into his ballad of ' Lord Soul is/ Scott's Minstrelsy, 
1833, IV, 244. 

t Especially by A Vesselofsky, Slavic Tales concerning 
Solomon and Kitovras, etc, St Petersburg, 1872 (in Rus- 
sian) ; None Beitrage zur Qeschichte der Salomonssage, 
VOL. T. 1 

fear lest the lady should have been captured 
by his foes. The lady declares that she is 
where she is by her own will, and means to 
stay. The palmer throws off his disguise, 
begs to be hidden from Violentrie, and is 
put down in a dark cellar. Violentrie soon 
arrives and calls for his dinner, casually re- 
marking that he would give ten thousand 
sequins for a sight of the Scot who has so 
often put him to flight. The lady takes him 
at his word, and calls up John Thomson. The 
Turk demands what he would do if their po- 
sitions were exchanged. " Hang you up," the 
Scot replies, with spirit, " and make you wale 
your tree." Violentrie takes his captive to 
the wood. John Thomson climbs tree after 
tree, ties a ribbon to every branch, and puts 
up a flag as a sign to his men : all which the 
Turk thinks no harm. Then John Thomson 
blows his horn. Three thousand men come 
tripping over the hill and demand their chief. 
The Turk begs for mercy, and gets such as 
he would have given : they burn him in his 
castle, and hang the lady. 

This ridiculous ballad is a seedling from 
an ancient and very notable story, which has 
an extensive literature, and has of late been 
subjected to learned and acute investigation.! 
It may be assumed with confidence that the 

Archiv fur Slavische Fhilologie, VI, 393 ff., 548 ff., 1882 ; 
V. Jagil, Archiv, etc., I, 103 ff., 1876; F. Vogt, Salman 
and Morolf, 1880, Zur Salman-Morolfsage, Paul and 
Braane's Beitrage, VIII, 313 ff., 1882. See these for tales 
containing portions of the same matter in various combina- 
tions, and for a discussion of an Oriental derivation. 


story was originally one of King Solomon and 
his queer, of whom it is related in Russian, 
Servian, and German. In the course of trans- 
mission, as ever has been the wont, names 
were changed, and also some subordinate cir- 
cumstances; in Portuguese, Solomon is re- 
placed by Ramiro II, king of Leon ; in a 
French romance by the Bastard of Bouillon. 
It is, however, certain that the Solomon story 
was well known to the French, and as early 
as the twelfth century.* Something of the 
same story, again, is found in Konig Rotber 
and in the CligSs of Crestien de Troies, both 
works of the twelfth century, and in various 
other poems and tales. 

The tale of the rape of Solomon's wife and 
of the revenge taken by Solomon is extant in 
Russian in three byliny (or, we may say, bal- 
lads), taken down from recitation in this cen- 
tury, and in three prose versions preserved in 
MSS of the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eight- 
eenth centuries. The byliny} relate that 
Tsar Vasilyof Constantinople (or Novgorod), 
while feasting with his nobles, demands of 
them to find him a wife who shall be his fair 
match in stature, beauty, wit, and birth. One 
of the company undertakes to get for his mas- 
ter Salamanija (Salomon ida), the beautiful 
wife of Salomon, Tsar of Jerusalem (or of Con- 
stantinople), and effects the business by entic- 
ing her on board of a ship to see fine things, an 
artifice of frequent occurrence in ballads. Sal- 
omon sets out to retrieve his wife, attended by 
a large army (which he conceals in a grove), 
presents himself at Vasily's palace as a pil- 
grim (or other humble personage), is recog- 
nized by his wife, and shut up in a box. 
When Vasily comes back from hunting, Sala- 
manija tells him what has chanced, and ad- 
vises the instant execution of Salomon, which 
is resolved on. Salomon is to be beheaded, 
but he begs that he may be hanged, and that 
three nooses, of rope, bast, and silk, may be 
provided. Under the gallows Salomon asks 
to be allowed to sound his horn. Salamanija 
objects, but is overruled. He blows thrice ; 

G. Paris, In Romania, VTJ, 462, IX, 436; Cliges, ed. 
Foerater, p. xix. 

tRybnikof, IT, NOB 52, 53, HI, No 56. See Jagic, as 

his army comes at the third sounding. Vasily 
is hanged in the silken noose, Salamanija in 
the rope, and the man that carried her off in 
the bast, 

One of the prose tales narrates these trans- 
actions as follows. The wife of Solomon, king 
of Jerusalem, is stolen from him by his bro- 
ther Kitovias, through the agency of a magi- 
cian, who, in the character of a merchant, ex- 
cites Solomon's admiration for a magnificent 
purple robe. Solomon buys the robe, and in- 
vites the seeming merchant to his table, Dur- 
ing the repast the magician envelops the king 
and his people in darkness, bungs a heavy 
slumber upon the queen and her people, and 
carries her off in his arms to his ship. Solo- 
mon, learning that his wife is in the posses- 
sion of Kitovras, proceeds against him with 
an army, which he orders to come to his 
help when they shall hear his horn sound the 
third time. Clad as an old pilgrim or beggar, 
he enters Kitovras's garden, where he comes 
upon a girl with a gold cup, who is about to 
draw water. He asks to drink from the 
king's cup. The girl objects, for, if reported 
to the king, such a thing would be the death 
of both of them ; but the gift of a gold ring 
induces her to consent. The queen sees the 
ring on the girl's hand, and asks who gave it 
to her. An old pilgrim, she replies. No pil- 
grim, says the queen, but my husband, Solo- 
mon. Solomon is brought before the queen, 
and asked what he has come for. To take 
off your head, he answers. To your own 
death, rejoins the queen ; you shall be hanged. 
Kitovras is sent for, and pronounces this doom. 
Solomon reminds Kitovras that they are bro- 
thers, and asks that he may die in regal style ; 
that Kitovras and the queen shall attend the 
execution, with all the people of the city ; and 
that there shall be ample provision of food 
and drink : all which is granted. At the gal- 
lows he finds a noose of bast ; he begs that 
two other nooses may be provided, one of red 
silk, one of yellow, so that he may have a 
choice, and this whim is complied with. Al- 

above, pp 103-6 , Miss I F Hapgood, Epic Songu of Russia, 
p 282, who combines the three texts. 


ways urging their brotherhood, Solomon, at 
three successive stages, asks the privilege of 
blowing his horn. The army is at hand upon 
the third blast, and is ordered to kill every- 
body. Kitovras and the queen are hanged in 
the silken nooses, the magician in the bast.* 

The variations of the other versions are 
mostly not material to our purpose. In one, 
King For takes the place of Kitovras ; in the 
third, the king of Cyprus. In the latter, Solo- 
mon asks to be hanged upon a tree, a great 
oak. The king of Cyprus begs for a gentle 
death, and his veins are opened. The queen 
is dismembered by horses. 

A Servian popular tale runs thus. Solo- 
mon's wife fell in love with another king, and 
not being able to escape to him on account 
of the strict watch which was kept over her, 
made an arrangement with him that he should 
send her a drink which should make her seem 
to be dead. Solomon, to test the reality of 
her death, cut off her little finger, and seeing 
no sign of feeling, had her buried. The other 
king sent his people to dig her up, restored 
animation, arid took her to wife. When Solo- 
mon found out what had been done, he set 
out for the king's palace with a body of armed 
men, whom he left in a wood, under orders to 
hasten to his relief when they heard the blast 
of a trumpet, each man with a green bough 
in his hand. The king was out a-hunting, 
the queen at home. She wiled Solomon into 
a chamber and locked him up, and when the 
king came back from the chase told him to 
go into the room and cut Solomon down, 
but to enter into no talk, since in that case 
he would certainly be outwitted. Solomon 
laughed at the king and his sword : that was 
not the way for a king to dispose of a king. 
He should take him to a field outside the city, 
and let a trumpet sound thrice, so that every- 
body that wished might witness the spectacle ; 
then he would find that the very greenwood 
would come to see one king put another to 
death. The king was curious to know whether 
the wood would come, and adopted Solomon's 
suggestion. At the first sound of the trum- 

* Jagi6, Archiv, 1, 107 f , Vesaelofsky, the same, VI, 406 
t Cf B 3 4 Methinks I see a coming tree 

pet, Solomon's men set forward ; at the sec- 
ond they were near at hand, but could not 
be distinguished because of the green boughs 
which they bore.| The king, convinced that 
the wood was coming, ordered a third blast. 
Solomon was rescued ; the king and his court 
were put to the sword 4 

A Little Russian story of Solomon and hie 
wife is given by Dragomanof, Popular Tradi- 
tions and Tales, 1876, p. 103, translated in 
Revue des Traditions Populaires, II, 518, by 
E. Hins. Solomon takes a wife from the fam- 
ily of a heathen tsar. She hates him, and con- 
certs an elopement with a heathen tsarevitch. 
She pretends to be dead. Solomon burns her 
hands through and through with a red-hot 
iron. She utters no sound, is buried in the 
evening, and immediately disinterred and car- 
ried off by her paramour. Solomon goes to 
the tsarevitch's house, attended by three 
armies, a black, a white, and a red (which 
are, of course, kept out of sight), and furnished 
with three pipes. The tsarevitch has a gal- 
lows set up, and Solomon is taken out to be 
hanged. He obtains liberty first to play on 
his pipes. The sound of the first brings the 
white army, that of the second the red, that 
of the third the black. The tsarevitch is 
hanged, the tsaritsa dragged at a horse's tail. 

A like story is narrated in German in a 
passage of about two hundred and fifty verses, 
which is appended to the Wit-Combat, or 
Dialogue, of Solomon and Morolf ; and again, 
with much interpolation and repetition, in a 
later strophic poem of more than four thou- 
sand lines. Both pieces are extant in manu- 
scripts and print of the fifteenth century, but 
their original is considerably earlier. 

In the briefer and earlier of the two Ger- 
man versions, Solomon's wife has bestowed 
her love on a nameless heathen king, and 
wishes to escape to him, but cannot bring 
this about. She feigns to be sick, and the 
heathen (with whom she has been in corre- 
spondence) sends two minstrels to her, who 
pretend to be able to cure sick folk with their 
music. They obtain admission to the queen, 

} Karadschitsch, Volksmarchen der Serben, 1854, No 4 2, 
p 233. 


give her an herb which throws her into a 
death-like sleep, and carry her off to their 
master. Morolf, at King Solomon's entreaty, 
sets forth to find the queen, and, after trav- 
ersing many strange lands, succeeds. Solo- 
mon, under his guidance and advice, and prop- 
erly supported by an armed force, goes to the 
castle where the queen is living ; leaves his 
men in an adjoining wood, under command 
to come to him when they hear his horn blow ; 
and, disguised as a pilgrim, begs food at the 
castle. His wife knows him the moment she 
lays eyes on him, and tells the heathen that 
it is Solomon. The heathen, overjoyed, says 
to Solomon, If I were in your hands, what 
should be my death? Would God it were 
so I answers the king. I would take you to 
the biggest wood, let you choose your tree, 
and hang you. So shall it be, says the 
heathen, calls his people, takes Solomon to 
the wood, and bids him choose his tree. I 
shall not be long about that, says Solomon ; 
but, seeing that I am of kingly strain, grant 
me, as a boon, to blow my horn three times. 
The queen objects ; the heathen says, Blow 
away. At the third blast Morolf arrives 
with Solomon's men. The heathen and all 
his people are slain ; the queen is taken back 
to Jewry, and put to death by opening her 
veins in a bath.* 

The longer poem has several additional in- 
cidents which recur in our ballad, and others 
which link it with other forms of the story. 
Salme, Solomon's wife, is daughter of an In- 
dian king (Cyprian, cf. the third Russian 
prose tale), and has been stolen from her 
father by Solomon. Fore, a heathen king, in 
turn steals Salme from the king of Jerusa- 
lem. Morolf is not the sharp-witted boor of 
the other piece, but Solomon's brother. When 
Solomon goes to Fore's castle, he is kindly re- 
ceived by that king's sister, and she remains 
his fast friend throughout. He tells her that 

he is a sinful man, upon whom has been 
imposed a penance of perpetual pilgrimage. 
Brought before the queen, Solomon tries to 
make Salme come back to him. She lets 
him know that she loves Fore three times as 
well as him, and to Fore will she stick. Solo- 
mon is put into some side room. Fore comes 
home and sits down to table with Salme, and 
she informs him that Solomon is in his power. 
The army consists of three divisions, a black, 
a white, and a wan (bleich), nearly as in the 
Little Russian tale. The reason which Solo- 
mon alleges for wishing to blow Ins horn is 
to give notice to St Michael and the angels 
to come and take his soul in charge. Fore 
is hanged. Salme is disposed of as before, 
but not until after she has eloped with an- 
other king. Solomon marries Fore's sister 
after Salme's death. f 

The adventure of Solomon will be recog- 
nized in wliat is recounted in Portuguese gen- 
ealogies of the fourteenth century concern- 
ing King Ramiro Second of Leon (f 950 ).J 
King Ramiro, smitten with passion for a beau- 
tiful Moorish lady, got himself invited to the 
castle of her brother Alboazar, at Gaya, and 
plumply asked for her. He would make her 
a Christian and marry her. Alboazar replied 
that Ramiro had a wife and children already. 
Ramiro could not deny this, but his queen was, 
it seems, conveniently near of kin to him, and 
Holy Church would allow a separation. The 
Moor swore that he never would give his sister 
to Ramiro. Ramiro, under cover of a dark- 
ness produced by an astrologer in his service, 
carried her off to Leon and had her baptized 
with the name Artiga. Alboazar, in revenge, 
availed himself of a favorable opportunity to 
lay hands on Aldora, Rannro's queen, and 
took her to his castle of Gaya. Ramiro, 
with five galleys crowded with his vassals, 
ran in at San Joao de Foz, near Gaya. He 
had taken the precaution to cover his gal- 

*Von der Hagen u Buschmg, Deutsche Gedichte des 
Mittelalters, 1808, I, 62, vv 1605-1848. 
t Vogt, Salman und Marolf 
| Os livros de Linhagens, in Portugal! Monumenta His- 

Ramiro' (1802), Poetical Works, 1853, VI, 122, and a pas- 
sage from the other 

Kemble, Salomon & Saturnus, p. 19, 1848, remarks on 
the resemblance of the story of Ramiro to that of Solomon 

torica, Scriptorea, 1856, 1, 180 f , 274-7 The latter account For historical names and facts in the Portuguese sayt, see 
was printed by Southey in the preface to his ballad 'King Baist in Zs f romamsche Philologie, V, 173 


leys with green cloth, and he laid them under 
the boughs of trees with which the place was 
covered, so that they were not to be seen. 
Having landed his men, he left them under 
the command of his son, D. Ordonho, with 
directions that they should keep well hidden 
and not stir from the spot till they should 
hear his horn, but then come with all speed, 
and himself putting on mean clothes (panos 
de tacanho, de veleto) over sword, mail, and 
horn, went and lay down at a spring near 
the castle. One of the queen's women came 
out to fetch water for her mistress. Ramiro, 
feigning to be unable to rise, asked her for a 
drink, which she offered him. He put into 
his mouth the half of a ring which he had 
divided with his queen, and dropped it into 
the vessel. The queen saw the half-ring and 
knew it, and elicited from her maid that she 
had met a sick beggar, who had asked for a 
drink. The man was sent for. ' What brings 
you here, King Ramiro ? ' demanded the queen. 
4 Love for you,' said he. 4 No love for me ; 
you care more for Artiga,' she retorted. Ra- 
miro was put into a back room, and the door 
was locked. Presently Alboazar came into 
the queen's chamber. The queen said to 
him, What would you do to Ramiro if you 
had him here? Put him to death cruelly 
(What he would do to me, kill him), re- 
sponded the Moor. He is locked up in that 
room, said the queen, and you can proceed at 
your will. 

Ramiro heard all this, and saw that he 
had never had more need to use his wits. 
He called in a loud voice to Alboazar: I 
wronged you by carrying off your sister. I 
confessed my sin to my priest, and he required 
of me as penance to go to you in this vile 
garb, and put myself in your power ; and if 
you wished to take my life, I was to submit 
to death in a shameful place, and the fact and 
cause of my death were to be proclaimed by a 

horn to all your people. Now I have to ask 
that you would collect your sons, your daugh- 
ters, your kinsfolk, and the people of this 
town, in a cattle-yard (curral), put me up 
high, and let me blow this horn that I wear, 
until breath and life fail. So you will have 
your revenge, and I shall save my soul. Al- 
boazar began to feel compassion for Ramiro. 
Aldora exclaimed at his weakness and folly. 
Ramiro, she said, was revengeful and cunning, 
an<J sparing him was rushing into destruc- 
tion ; whereby the Moor was brought to say, 
You know that if you had me in your hands, 
I should not escape. I will do what you ask, 
for the salvation of your soul. So Alboazar 
took Ramiro to the yard, which had high 
walls and but one gate, and the queen, her 
dames and damsels, the Moor's sons and 
kinsfolk, and the town's people, were there. 
Ramiro was put on a pillar, and told to blow 
till life left his body ; and he blew with all 
his might. D. Ordonho came with the king's 
vassals and beset the gate. Ramiro drew his 
sword and split Alboazar's head, The queen 
and her ladies were spared, but every other 
creature in the yard was slain, including four 
sons and three daughters of Alboazar, and no 
stone was left standing in Gaya. Ramiro put 
the queen and her women aboard the galleys. 
Aldora was found weeping. Ramiro asked the 
cause. Because you have killed the Moor, 
a better man than yourself, was her answer. 
This was thought too much to be borne. The 
queen was tied to a millstone and thrown 
into the sea. Ramiro married Artiga.* 

There is a poem on this theme by Joao 
Vaz (Lisbon, 1630, reprinted by Braga, 1868), 
which points to a different source than the 
genealogies. Ramiro takes the sister of King 
Almanzor captive in war, and becomes enam- 
ored of her, in consequence of which Gaya, 
Ramiro's wife, elopes with Almanzor. Gaya 
receives Ramiro with feigned kindness when 

* There is nothing about the fair Moor in the first and 
briefer account, or of the penance given Ramiro. Ortiga is 
there the name of the servant who comes to fetch water. Ra- 
miro is brought before the Moor and told that he is to die 
But I should like to aak you, says the Moor, what manner 
of death mine should be if you had me in your hands The 

king was very hungry, and he answered, I would give you 
a stewed capon and a loaf, and make you eat them, and 
then wine and make you drink, and then open the gates of 
my cattle-yard and have all my people called to see you die, 
and make you mount on a pillar and blow your horn till 
your breath was gone. 


he oomee to the castle, then betrays him (as 
in the French romance).* 

Almeida-Garret*; composed a little romance 
out of the story as here given, with the name 
Zahara for Alboazar's sister, and Gaia for 
Ramiro's wife, and making Ramiro cut off 
Gaia's head before he throws her into the 
water: 'Miragaia,' Romanceiro, I, 181, ed. 
1868. He informs us that he has interwoven 
in his poem some verses from popular tradi- 
tion. A ballad of Ramiro, or at least some 
remnant of one, appears still to be in exist- 
ence. Madame de Vasconcellos (1880) had 
heard two lines of it. 

Li Bastars de Bullion, a romance of the 
fourteenth century, repeats the chief incidents 
of the foregoing accounts, agreeing in details 
sometimes with one, sometimes with another, f 
Ludie, daughter of the emir of Orbrie, is to 
marry Gorsabrin, king of Mont Oscur. The 
Bastard of Bouillon, who has heard of the 
beauty of the Saracen princess, conceives a 
sudden fancy for her. He besieges and takes 
the city of Orbrie, kills the emir, and com- 
pels Ludie to submit to baptism and to mar- 
riage with himself. She takes advantage of 
an absence of the Bastard to escape to Cor- 
sabrin, who makes her his queen. The Bas- 
tard, bent on vengeance, sails to Mont Oscur, 
and in the adjacent woods lights on a charcoal- 
man who is going to the castle in the way of 
his business. He kills the charcoal-man and 
puts on his clothes, and in this habit, with a 
well-blackened face, has no difficulty in ob- 
taining entrance to the residence of Corsabrin. 
His men he has left in the wood under com- 
mand of his counsellor and lieutenant, Hugh. 
Corsabrin is hawking, but the Bastard falls 
in with Ludie, who affects to be glad of his 
coming, and offers to go off with him if he 
will forgive her and do her no harm. A bath 
would seem to be in order. Ludie has one 
prepared for the Bastard, and while he is en- 
gaged in taking it, sends for Corsabrin, who 
comes in upon the young Frank with sixty 
men. Ludie enjoins her rightful husband to 
show no mercy. The Saracen will not do so 

infamous a thing as to put his enemy to death 
in a bath, but assures his wife that the Bas- 
tard shall die d gui*e de martir. A rich dress 
is furnished the Bastard, and Corsabrin then 
says, On your oath, now, what death should 
I die, were I in your power ? Sire, says the 
Bastard, why should I dissemble ? I promise 
you, I would take you to a wood, and I would 
hang you to the highest tree I could find. By 
Mahound I says the king, so will I do with 
you. The Bastard is taken to a wood, with 
a rope round his neck. Corsabrin's people 
look out the highest tree. The Bastard is 
made to go up, higher and higher, the hang- 
man drawing the rope all too tight the while, 
till the king says, Now. At the last moment 
the Bastard calls out to Corsabrin that he is 
a knight of high birth, and ought not to die 
like a rogue, but as a man of mark dies among 
the Franks. And how is that ? asks the Sar- 
acen. They give him a horn, and he blows 
four or five times to summon the angels to 
come for his soul. Then he says a prayer. 
Then they strangle hi or behead him. A 
horn is sent up to the Bastard, and he blows 
lustily. Hugh hears, and rides in hot haste to 
the call. The Bastard makes the most of his 
grace ; his prayer is very long. He sees that 
a fight is going on below, and knocks the 
hangman dead from the tree with his fist, 
then comes down from the tree and joins in 
the fray. Hugh runs Corsabrin through with 
a lance, Ludie is taken captive, and every 
other living being in the castle is slain. 
Hugh begs as a reward for his services that 
he may have the disposal of Ludie. The 
Bastard accords the boon, with a recommen- 
dation to mercy : * arse f u li royne c'on ap- 
pella Ludie.' 

The escaping to a lover by taking a drug 
which causes apparent death, and the test of 
molten lead or gold, in the German poems, 
and in Cligds, 6000 ff., are found in * The 
Gay Goshawk,' No 96, II, 855 ff. The test 
is also employed in one form of the Russian 
prose narratives: Vesselofsky, in the Slavic 
Archiv, VI, 409. 

* Madwne Michaelis de Vaaconcelloi, in Paul n. Braune's 
Beitrtge, VIII, 315 f. 

t Ed. Scheler, BruxeUw, 1877 ; vr. 4503-6253. 


A portion of the story is preserved in Scan- 
dinavian balls/is, with very distinct marks of 
Russian origin. 

Swedish. 4 Jungfru Solfager,' Arwidsson, 
1, 177, No 26 : A from a MS. of the sixteenth 
century, B from recitation. 

A. Solfager is a handsome woman, so hand- 
some as to endanger her husband Sir David's 
life. Fearing that she may be carried off, 
David in some way marks or stamps her hand 
with a gold cross, that she may be known 
thereby. As Solfager is standing at the castle 
gate, Novgorod's (Noug&rd's) king comes rid- 
ing up. He asks if her husband is at home ; 
Sir David went away the day before, and will 
not come back for a year. The king tells her 
that if she will plight herself to him she shall 
always wear gold shoes; Solfager answers 
that she loves David* dearly. The king gives 
her a drink, two drinks ; she swoons, and falls 
to the ground ; she is laid on a bier, taken to 
the kirk-yard, and buried. The king (David 
in the text, absurdly) has kept his eye on 
their doings ; he digs her up, and carries her 
out of the land. David, disguised as a pil- 
grim, goes to the king of Novgorod's palace, 
and asks to be housed as a poor pilgrim. The 
king invites him in. David takes his place 
with other pilgrims ; Solfager breaks bread 
for them. [Her hand is gloved.] David asks 
why she does not break bread with a bare 
hand ; she calls him an old fool, and bids him 
eat or go. The king, from his bed, inquires 
what the pilgrim is saying. ' Lie down, my 
lord,' answers Solfager ; ' what a fool says is 
no matter.' They all fall asleep in their 
places ; Solfager follows Sir David home. 

B. Solfot looks at her face in the water. 
' God help me for my beauty ! ' she exclaims, 
'surely I shall come to a strange land.' Her 
husband, the Danish king, tells her that he 
shall write a cross in her right hand, by which 
he shall find her again. While Solfot is comb- 
ing her hair out of doors, the Ormeking 
asks her if she has a golden crown to put on it ; 
she has four and five, all the gift of the king 
of the Danes. Ormeking gives her a drink 
which turns her black and blue ; Solfot is laid 
in the ground ; Ormeking knows well where, 

takes her up, carries her off to his own place, 
and gives her seven drinks ; she stands up as 
good as ever. Daneking dons pilgrim's clothes 
and goes to Ormeking's. Solfot, as northern 
ladies wont, is combing her hair out of doors. 
Daneking asks for a pilgrim's house; there 
is one on the premises, where poor pilgrims 
use (like King Claudius) to take their rouse. 
The pilgrims stand in a ring; Solfot is to 
dispense mead to them in turn. Daneking 
dashes his gloves on the board : * Is it not the 
way here that ladies deal mead with bare 
hands ? ' Ormeking dashes his gloves on the 
board : * That was a bold word for a pilgrim ! ' 
4 If that was a bold word for a pilgrim,' says 
Daneking, ' it was bolder yet to dig Solfot out 
of the ground.' Then he puts Solfot on his 
horse and rides away. 

There are also two unprinted nineteenth- 
century copies in Professor G. Stephens's col- 

Norwegian. 'S61fager og Ormekongin,' 
Landstad, p. 503, No 56, from a woman's 
singing. They stamp a gold cross on (or into ? 
the process is not clear) S61fager's hand, that 
she may be recognized in a strange country. 
The Onneking (or King Orm) comes riding 
while Solfager is sunning her hair. ' Trick 
King David,' he says, ' and bind yourself to 
me.' * Never shall it be,' she replies, ' that I 
give myself to two brothers.' He administers 
to her three potions, she swoons ; word comes 
to King David that she is dead ; they bury 
her. Ormeking does not fail to carry off the 
body. King David goes to Ormeking's land 
in pilgrim's garb, with pilgrim's staff ; as he 
enters the court S61fager is undoing her hair. 
[Then there is a gap, which may be easily 
filled up from the Swedish story.] * Is it the 
custom here to cut bread with gloved hand ? ' 
She takes off his pilgrim's hat, and takes his 
yellow locks in her hand. ' When you say 
you are a pilgrim, you must be lying to me.' 
4 Even so,' he answers, ( but I am your dear 
husband, as you easily may see. Will you go 
home with me ? ' * Gladly,' she says, 4 but I 
am afraid of Ormeking.' King David takes 
Ormeking's horse and rides home with his 
wife. When Onneking comes back, S61fager 



is away. (A final stanza does not belong to 
die story.) 

There are other imprinted copies which 
will appear in a contemplated edition of Nor- 
wegian ballads by Sophus Bugge and Moltke 

Danish. Eight imprinted MS. copies of the 
seventeenth century and a flying sheet of the 
date 1719. The ballad will be No 472 of 
Danmarks gamle Folkeviser.* A fragment of 
five stanzas (of dialogue relative to the gloved 
hand) is given by Kristensen, Jyske Folke- 
minder, X, 331, No 82. 

It will be observed that the ravisher is king 
of Novgorod in Swedish A, as in one of the 
Russian epics, and that he is the brother of 
King David in the Norwegian ballad as he 
is of King Solomon in the Russian prose tale. 
The sleeping-draught, burial, and digging up 
are in the Servian tale, and something of them 
in the Little Russian tale, as also in the ear- 
lier German poem. 

For the boon of blowing the horn see No 
128, Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar,* 
and No 140, * Robin Hood rescuing Three 
Squires,' III, 122, 177, ff. ; also HeiSreks Saga, 
Rafn, Fornaldar Sogur, I, 468-61 (14), 529 f. 
(9); Vesselofsky, in the Slavic Archiv, VI, 
404 f. ; and Wollner's note, Abschiedblasen, 
Brugman's Litauische Marchen, p. 552. 

August 1, 1686, there was allowed to Yar- 
rat James as one of six ballads 'A merrie 
jest of John Tomson and Jakaman his wife,' 
Arber, Stationers' Registers, II, 450. This 
ballad is preserved in the Roxburghe collec- 
tion, I, 264, 255, Ballad Society's edition, II, 
136, and, so far as I have observed, there 
only. It is subscribed M. L., initials which 
Mr Ghappell was unable to identify, and it 

* I am indebted to Dr Axel Olrik for information con- 
earning the Solfager ballads, and for transcripts of Danish 
and Swedish versions not received in time for notice here. 
See p. 280. 

t Originally, no doubt, as Motherwell suggests, Joan 
Thomson's man, or husband. 

| "One John Thomson is mentioned as an officer in the 
army of Edward Bruce in Ireland. After Brace's death, 

was imprinted at London for Edward Wright 
The Roxburghe copy was reprinted by R. 
H. Evans, Old Ballads, 1810, 1, 187. The 
title is 

' A merry lest of lohn Tomson and Jakaman his 

Whose jealouaie was justly the cause of all their 


It is dated in the Museum catalogue 1685 ?. 
This is an extremely vapid piece, and has 
no manner of connection with ( John Thom- 
son and the Turk.' In Halliwell's Notices 
of Popular English Histories, p. 91, Percy 
Society, vol. xxiii, there is one, No 108, of 
' John Thompson's Man, or a short survey of 
the difficulties and disturbances that may at- 
tend a married life,' etc., 24 pp., 12. There is 
a copy in the Abbotsford Library. 

4 To be John Thomson's man ' f is a Scottish 
proverb signifying to be submissive to a wife, 
or, more generally, to be complaisant. " John 
Thomson's men" are " still ruled by their 
wives:" Colville's Whig's Supplication, or, 
The Scotch Hudibras, cited by Motherwell. 
" Samson was the greatest fool that ever was 
born, for he revealed his secrets to a daft 
hussie. Samson, you may well call him 
Fool Thompson, for of all the John Thom- 
son's men that ever was he was the foolest :" 
The Scotch Presbyterian Eloquence, etc., 
London, 1692 (cited by Motherwell, from the 
edition of 1768, in a MS. note, Appendix, p. 
x, in a copy of the Minstrelsy which belonged 
to Mr R. A. Ramsay.) Some begging verses 
of Dunbar to the King have the refrain, ' God 
gif ye war Johne Thomsoneis man.' (Other 
quotations in Leyden, p. 370, Motherwell, 
Appendix, p. ix.) f 

he led back to Scotland the remnant of his army. In 133^ 
he held for David Brace the castle of Lochdonn in Carrick. 
Sir W. Scott thus characterizes him . ' John Thomson, a man 
of obscure birth and dauntless valor, the same apparently 
who led back from Ireland the shattered remainder of Ed- 
ward Bruce's army, held out for his rightful sovereign.' 
History of Scotland, 1, 181," Note by Motherwell in Mr 
Ramsay's copy of the Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. k. 



Bnchan's Ballad* of the North of Scotland, II, 159; 
Mothcrwell'sMS.,p. 615; MotherwelTi Minstrelsy, Appen- 
dix, p. ix. 

1 JOHN THOMSON fought against the Turks 

Three years into a far country, 
And all that time, and something more, 
Was absent from his gay lady. 

2 But it fell ance upon a time, 

As this young chieftain sat alane, 
He spied his lady in rich array, 
As she walkd oer a rural plain. 

3 ' What brought you here, my lady gay, 

So far awa from your own country ? 
I 've thought lang, and very lang, 
And all for your fair face to see.' 

4 For some days she did with him stay, 

Till it fell ance upon a day, 
( Farewell for a time/ she said, 

1 For now I must bound home away/ 

5 He 's gien to her a jewel fine, 

Was set with pearl and precious stone ; 
Says, My love, beware of these savages bold, 
That 's on your way as ye go home. 

6 Ye '11 take the road, my lady fair, 

That leads you fair across the lee ; 

That keeps you from wild Hind Soldan, 

And likewise from base Violentrie. 

7 With heavy heart these two did part, 

And minted as she would go home ; 
Hind Soldan by the Greeks was slain, 
But to base Violentrie she 's gone. 

8 When a twelvemonth had expired, 

John Thomson he thought wondrous lang, 
And he has written a broad letter, 
And seald it well with his own hand. 

9 He sent it along with a small vessel 

That there was quickly going to sea, 
And sent it on to fair Scotland, 
To see about his gay ladie. 

10 But the answer he received again, 

The lines did grieve his heart right sair ; 

None of her friends there had her seen 
For a twelvemonth and something mair. 

11 Then he pat on a palmer's weed, 

And took a pikestaff in bin hand ; 
To Violence's castle he hied, 
But slowly, slowly he did gang. 

12 When within the hall he came, 

He joukd and conchd out-oer his tree : 
< If ye be lady of this hall, 
Some of your good bountieth give me.' 

13 ' What news, what news, palmer ? ' she said, 

* And from what countrie came ye ? ' 
' I 'm lately come from Grecian plains, 
Where lys some of the Scots army.' 

14 ' If ye be come from Grecian plains, 

Some more news I will ask of thee ; 

Of one of the chieftains that lies there, 

If he have lately seen his gay ladie.' 

15 * It is twelve months and something more 

Since we did part in yonder plain ; 
And now this knight has begun to fear 
One of his foes he has her taen.' 

16 ' He has not taen me by force nor might, 

It was all by my own free will ; 
He may tarry in die fight, 
For here I mean to tarry still. 

17 ' And if John Thomson ye do see, 

Tell him I wish him silent sleep ; 
His head was not so cozelie 

Nor yet so well as lies at my feet' 

18 With that he threw [aff ] his strange disguise, 

Laid by the mask that he had on ; 
Said, Hide me now, my ladie fair, 
For Violentrie will soon be home. 

19 ' For the love I bare thee once, 

I '11 strive to hide you if I can ; ' 
Then put him down to a dark cellar, 
Where there lay mony a new slain man. 

20 But he hadna in the cellar been 

Not an hour but barely three, 
Till hideous was the sound he heard ; 
Then in at the gates came Violentrie* 



21 Says, I wish yon well, my lady fair, 

It 's time for us to sit and dine ; 
Gome, serve me with the good white bread, 
And likewise with the claret wine. 

22 * That Soots chieftain, our mortal foe, 

So oft from field has made us flee, 
Ten thousand sequins this day I 'd give 
That I his face could only see/ 

23 ' Of that same gift would ye give me, 
If I could bring him unto thee ? 

I fairly hold you at your word ; 
Come ben, John Thomson, to my lord. 1 

24 Then from the vault John Thomson came, 

Wringing his hands most piteonslie ; 
4 What would ye do/ the Turk he cried, 
' If ye had me, as I have thee ? * 

25 * If I had you, as ye have me, 

I '11 tell you what I 'd do to thee ; 
I 'd hang you up in good greenwood, 
And cause your own hand wile the tree. 

26 ' I meant to stick you with my knife, 
For kissing my beloved wife ; ' 

' But that same weed ye Ve shaped for me, 
It quickly shall be sewed for thee/ 

27 Then to the wood they both are gone, 

John Thomson clamb from tree to tree ; 
And aye he sighd, and said, Ohon ! 
Here comes the day that I must die ! 

28 He tied a ribbon on every branch, 

Put up a flag his men might see ; 
But little did his false foe ken 
He meant them any injurie. 

29 He set his horn to his mouth, 

And he has blawn baith loud and shrill ; 
And then three thousand armed men 
Came tripping all out-oer the hill. 

30 'Deliver us our chief ! ' they all did cry, 

* It 's by our hand that ye must die ! ' 
* Here is your chief/ the Turk replied, 
With that fell on his bended knee. 

31 ' O mercy, mercy, good fellows all, 

Mercy I pray you '11 grant to me ! ' 
4 Such mercy as ye meant to give, 
Such mercy we shall give to thee.* 

32 This Turk they in his castle burnt, 

That stood upon yon hill so hie ; 
John Thomson's gay lady they took, 
And hangd her on yon greenwood tree. 


Leyden'B Glossary to The Complaynt of Scotland, p. 371. 

1 CAM ye in by the House o Bodes, 

Or cam ye there away ? 
Or have [ye] seen Johne Tamson ? 
They say his wife has run away. 

2 4 what wad ye do, Johne Tamson, 

Gin ye had me as I hae thee ? ' 

* I wad tak ye to the gude green-wood, 
And gar your ain hand well the tree.' 
***** * * 

3 Johne Tamson peeped and poorly spake 

Untill he did his ain men see ; 
O by my sooth/ quo Johne Tamson, 
* Methinks I see a coming tree.' 

4 And they hae hanged that grim Soudan, 

For a' his mirth and meikle pride, 
And sae hae they that ill woman, 
Upon a scrogg-bush him beside. 

15 1 . two months in all the copies ; cf. 8*. 

19 4 . lye. 

MotherweWs MS. has a few variations, but these 
may be attributed to Motherwett. All except- 
ing one, which is an error of the pen, appear 
in the Minstrelsy. 

6 4 . in your. 14*. has. 16 s . part on. 

16. into the. 19*. lay. 20. Then. 

(20*. Minstrelsy, When.) 20*. gate. 

21 a . sit to. 22*. I'll. 

25 1 . have, error of the pen. 25*. wale. 

26 8 . ladie/or wife, to avoid couplets. 28 1 . foes. 





A. < The Heir of Lin,' Percy MS., p. 71 ; Hales and 
Furnivall, I, 174. 

B. a. ' The Heir of Linne,' Bucban's MSB, I, 40 ; Mo- 
therweil's MS,, p. 680 ; Dixon, Scottish Traditional 

Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 30, Percy Society, 
voL xvii. b. * The Weary Heir of Linne,' Buchan's 
MSS, II, 114. o. 'The Laird o Linne,' Christie's 
Traditional Ballad Airs, 1, 112. 

THE three stanzas cited by Motherwell, 
Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. Ixviii, note 15 
(wrongly as to 2*), and repeated from Mother- 
well by Chambers, p. 310, Whitelaw, p. 81, 
Aytoun, II, 342, are from B a. 

A. The heir of Linne, a Scots lord, took to 
cards, dice, and wine, sold his lands to John o 
the Scales, and went on in dissolute ways for 
three fourths of a year longer ; then he was 
forced to go to Edinburgh and beg his bread. 
Some gave him, some refused him, some bade 
him go to the devil. Brooding over his desti- 
tution, he remembered that his father had left 
him a paper which he was not to look into till 
he should be in extreme need. This paper 
told him of a castle wall in which stood three 
chests of money. Filling three bags with 
gold, he went to John o Scales's house. John's 
wife wished herself a curse if she trusted him 
a penny. One good fellow in the company 
offered to lend him forty pence, and forty 
more, if wanted. John o Scales tendered him 
his lands back for twenty pounds less than 
they had been sold for. The heir of Linne 
called the lords present to witness, threw 
John a penny to bind the bargain, and 
counted out the money from his bags. Then 
he gave the good fellow forty pounds, and 
made him keeper of his forest, and beshrewed 
himself if ever he put his lands in jeopardy 

* Cane in hand, 10*, 22 s . This is had enough, hut not 
quite 10 bad as the woman with cane in hand, ' Tarn Lin/ 
III, 505, 16*, and ' The Kitchie-Boy/ No 252, E 6 a . The 

B. The heir of Linne stands at his father's 
gates, and nobody asks him in. He is hun- 
gry, wet, and cold. As he goes down the 
town, gentlemen are drinking. Some say, 
Give him a glass ; some say, Give him none. 
As he goes up the town, fishermen are sit- 
ting. Some say, Give him a fish ; some say, 
Give him a fin. He takes the road to Linne,* 
and on the way begs of his nurse a slice of 
bread and a bottle of wine, promising to pay 
them back when he is laird of Linne ; which 
he will never be, she says. A score of nobles 
are dining at Linne. Some say, Give him 
beef, some say, Give him the bone ; some say, 
Give him nothing at all. The new laird will 
let him have a sip, and then he may go his 
gate. At his wits' end, he now recalls a little 
key given him by his mother before she died, 
which he was to keep till he was in his great- 
est need. This key fits a little door some- 
where in the castle. He gets gold enough to 
free his lands. He returns to the company 
of nobles. The new laird offers him Linne 
back for a third of what had been paid for it. 
He takes the guests to witness, and tells the 
money down on a table. He pays the nurse 
for her bread and wine. His hose had been 
down at his ankles ; now he has fifteen lords 
to escort him. f 

Percy, Reliques, 1765, II, 309, 1794, II, 
128 (with some readings of his manuscript 

mantle and cane are a commonplace. See also El 14 of No 
252, No 76, O 3, and No 97, B 20*. 
t The Gallowgate port of B a 35 belongs to Aberdeen. 



restored in the later edition), as he puts it, 
revised and completed A by " the insertion of 
supplemental stanzas," " suggested by a mod- 
ern ballad on a similar subject." In fact, 
Percy made a new ballad,* and a very good 
one, which, since his day, has passed for ' The 
Heir of Linne.' (Herd, 1769, p. 227, but 
afterwards dropped; Ritson, Scotish Songs, 
II, 129 ; Ritson, Ancient Songs and Ballads, 
1829, II, 81, with a protest ; even Chambers, 
p. 310, Aytoun, II, 342 ; for the Scottish ver- 
sion had not been printed when these collec- 
tions appeared.) 

The modern ballad on a similar subject 
used by Percy was ' The Drunkard's Legacy/ f 
an inexpressibly pitiable ditty, from which 
Percy did not and could not take a line, but 
only, as he says, a suggestion for the improve- 
ment of the story. In this, a gentleman has 
a thriftless son given over to gaming and 
drunkenness. The father, foreseeing his ruin, 
builds a cottage on a waste plat of land, with 
one door, fastened by a spring-lock. On his 
death-bed he sends for his son, tells him of 
the cottage, and directs him, after he has lost 
all his friends and pawned his lands, to break 
open the door, for he shall find something 
within to end his troubles. After the father's 
death the son spent all his ready money, and 
then pawned his lands to the keeper of a tav- 
ern which he had frequented, who, in the 
end, kicked him out of doors. Recalling now 
his father's in junction, the son broke open the 
cottage, hoping to find money. He saw only 
4 a gibbet and a rope,' and a stool under the 
rope. He mounted the stool, put the rope 
round his neck, and jumped off. The ' gibbet ' 
broke, and a thousand pound in gold came 
tumbling about his ears. The young man, 
with a blessing on his father, vowed to give 
up drinking. He went to the vintner's, and 
getting a rough reception, complained of his 
so treating a man who had pawned to him 
for three hundred pounds lands bringing in 
eight score pounds' rent, and besides had 
spent the money in that shop. The vintner 
told him to bring a hundred pounds the next 

Of the 212 lines of Percy's ballad, some 80, or the sub- 
stance of them, occur in the MS copy, and half a dozen 
more of the 216 lines of the 4th edition. 

day and take the lands back. The young 
man asked a note to this effect, which was 
unsuspectingly given. He then went and 
fetched the money, bringing with him a com- 
rade, ( who had made him drink when money- 
less.' The vintner declared that he had 
spoken in jest, but * this young man's friend ' 
urged that the written agreement would * cast ' 
him in law ; so the vintner had to take the 
hundred pounds and give up the deeds, and 
he cut his throat for mortification. From 
that time the prodigal lived a sober, charita- 
ble life. 

Percy's introduction of the lonesome lodge, 
the hanging, the bursting ceiling, and the 
father's double admonition, is an improve- 
ment too striking to require or bear much 
comment. It is very far from certain that a 
young reprobate, who has spent everything 
in riotous living, will be turned into better 
courses by simply coming upon more money, 
as in the traditional ballad; whereas there 
is a very fair chance that the moral shock 
received in the other might be efficacious. 

There are several Oriental stories which 
closely resemble that of ' The Drunkard's 
Legacy,' or of Percy's ' Heir of Linne.' 

(1.) Sinadab was left by his father's will 
free to dispose of a large property, with the 
exception of a diminutive garden, at the end 
of which was a small house. This he was on 
no account to part with. He indulged in 
reckless profusion, and in about two years 
everything was spent. The friends of his 
affluent days abandoned him, all but one, 
who gave him ten sequins. With only this 
in hand he set out on a voyage which led to 
adventures which may be passed over. They 
ended in his coming again to extreme poverty. 
He then remembered the little garden which 
he had been forbidden to sell. He found a 
small box in the house, and eagerly broke it 
open. There was nothing in it but a rope, 
witn a writing in his father's hand, rebuking 
him for his dissipation, and suggesting that, 
if he had sufficient resolution, he might put 
an end to his troubles by use of the rope. 

t Reprinted by Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads, etc , p 
151, Percy Society, vol xvn, from a chap-book 



Sinadab accordingly got up on a stool, fastened 
the rope to the ceiling, adjusted a noose about 
his neck, and pushed back the stool. The 
ceiling gave way, and he was covered with a 
shower of gold pieces, which proved to be only 
a trifling part of riches concealed above. His 
career after this was serious and prudent. 
Gueulette, 'Les mille et un quart d'heure,' 
Contes Tartares, Cabinet des Fdes, XXI, 
66-70, 89-93. 

(2.) Turkish. A merchant took his son to 
a certain house, and said, If you waste the 
wealth I leave, do not beg, but get a rope and 
hang yourself from this ring. The son squan- 
dered his inheritance with sycophants, who 
reviled him after he was stripped. He got a 
rope, went to the house, mounted a stool, fas- 
tened one end of the rope to the ring, the 
other about his neck, and threw himself from 
the stool. A board in which the ring was 
fastened gave way, the young man fell to the 
ground, and gold and jewels came pouring 
upon him. He repented of his profligacy, 
and reformed his ways. 4 The Forty Vezirs,' 
Gibb, p. 244 ; Behrnauer, p. 253. 

(3.) Arabic. A man charged his son not 
to beg if he should come to want, for he had 
hidden a treasure in his house, which, how- 
ever, he was not to resort to until compelled 
by dire necessity. After his father's death, 
the son, without delay, broke into the place 
where the treasure had been said to be con- 
cealed, but found only an empty room, with 
a rope hanging from the ceiling. Under the 
rope was a pile of bricks, and a paper rec- 
ommending him to get up on the bricks and 
hang himself. The young man went off, 
and with the assistance of parasites, was soon 
rid of all his wealth. After a taste of the 
sharpness of poverty and of the baseness of 
summer friends, he went to the room where 
he had expected to find the treasure, stepped 
on the pile of bricks, tied the rope round his 
neck, and kicked away the bricks. The rope 
parted, and a quantity of precious things 
tumbled from overhead. His false friends 
promptly returned with prosperity, but were 
put to shame. Tausend und eine Nacht, 
Deutsch von Habicht, v. d. Hagen u. Schall, 
1840, XIV, 65-68. 

(4.) The same story, with some of the de- 
tails of both 2 and 3, in Pauli's Schimpf und 
Ernst, Oesterley, p. 400, from the edition of 
1533. In Pauli's tale, the young man, after 
a year of exemplary life in the world, gives 
all his goods to the poor and turns hermit. 

(5.) Persian. A tal mule's extravagances 
cause his father great anxiety. The father, 
when near his end, charges his son, if he 
should be so unhappy as to dissipate the for- 
tune he will receive, to hang himself to a 
branch of a tree in the middle of the garden. 
The bough breaks, and the trunk is found to 
be full of precious stones. Petis de la Croix, 
Les Mille et un Jour, Cabinet des Fe*es, 
XIV, 457. 

There is another and seemingly an inde- 
pendent story, summarized in two distichs in 
the Greek Anthology (IX, 44, 45, translated 
by Ausonius, Epigrammata, 22, 23), how a 
man, who was about to hang himself, found 
some money, and left his rope behind, and 
how the owner of the money, coming for it 
and not finding it, hanged himself with the 
rope.* La Fontaine's fable, * Le Tre"sor et 
les deux Homraes,' IX, 16, is this story, with 
a wall falling, not by precontrivance, but 
fiom its ruinous condition. 

The eighth tale in the ninth decade of 
Giraldi Cinthio's Hecatommithi, 1565, II, 
563, is a modification of what may be called 
the Greek story. " Chera hid a treasure. 
Elisa, going about to hang herself, and tying 
the halter about a beam, found that treasure, 
and in place thereof left the halter. Philene, 
the daughter of Chera, going for that treasure, 
and busily searching for the same, found the 
halter, wherewithal, in despair, she would have 
hanged herself, but," etc. (Painter's argu- 
ment to his translation of Cinthio's tale in 
the Palace of Pleasure, 2d Tome (1567), llth 
novel, ed. Jacobs, II, 264.) 

The Greek Syntipas has another variety. 
A man, reduced to want, takes a sword and 
goes to a lonely place to end his misery. 
He finds in a deep hole or fosse a quantity of 
gold which has been hidden there by a cy- 

44 Xpvfflv lu*ip <vpt>r lAnrc 3^X0" aMp 6 xpwrlr 



clops, takes it, and goes back to his house very 
happy. The cyclops, coming to the spot and 
not finding his gold, but seeing the sword 
lying about, slays himself. Matthsei, Syn- 
tip Fabulse, 1781, p. 88, M J Coray, ^sP> 
p. 246, No 384.* 

A tale in Anvar-i Suhailf has been cited in 
connection with the foregoing, which has only 
a general and remote resemblance to ' The 
Heir of Linne.' A wise king, perceiving that 
his two unpromising sons would misuse his 
treasures, buries them in a hermitage. After 
his death, his sons quarrel about the succession. 
The younger is worsted, and brought so low 
that he abandons the world, and selects this 

hermitage for his retirement. Here he learns 
wisdom that is better than riches, and also 
discovers the buried treasure. Both the elder 
brother and a king with whom he is at vari- 
ance are killed in a fight, and the younger is 
offered a double kingdom. (Chapter I, story 
n, East wick, p. 74 ; also, Contes et Fables 
Indiennes de Bidpa'i et de Lokman (Galland), 
Cabinet des F6es, XVII, 122 ; The Fables of 
Pilpay, London, 1818, p. 51.) 

Percy's ballad is translated by Bodmer, II, 
117, and by Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen 
Alt-Englands, p. 78. 

Percy MS., p. 71; Hales and FurnivaU, I, 174. 

1 OFF all the lords in f aire Scottland 

A song I will begin ; 
Amongst them all there dweld a lord 
Which was the vnthrifty lord of Linne. 

2 His father and mother were dead him f roe, 

And soe was the head of all his kinne ; 
To the cards and dice that he did run 
He did neither cease nor bl[i]nne. 

3 To drinke the wine that was soe cleere, 

With euery man he wold make merry ; 
And then bespake him lohn of the Scales, 
Vnto the heire of Linne sayd hee. 

4 Sayes, How dost thou, Lore? of Linne ? 

Doest either want gold or fee ? 
Wilt thou not sell thy lands soe brode 
To such a good fellow as me ? 

6 ' Ff or . . I . . ' he said, 

4 My land, take it vnto thee ; ' 
6 1 draw you to record, my lord[e]s all ; ' 
With that he cast him a god's peny. 

* All the above tales, except Pauli's, have been cited, in 
one connection or another, by Dunlop, History of Fiction, 
(II, 201, of Wilson's late edition) , by Benfey, Pantschatan- 
tra, I, 97 f ; or by Liebrecht, Gottingische Gelehrte Anzei- 
gen, 1868, p 1891. Oesterley, in his note to Pauli, 16, p. 552 

6 He told him the gold vpon the bord, 

It wanted neuer a bare penny : 
* That gold is thine, the land is mine, 
The heire of Linne I wilbee.' 

7 ' Heere 's gold inoughe/ saithe the heire of 


' Both for me and my company : ' 
He drunke the wine that was soe cleere, 
And with euery man he made merry. 

8 With-in three quarters of a yeere 

His gold and fee it waxed thinne, 
His merry men were from him gone, 
And left him himself e all alone. 

9 He had neuer a penny left in his pursse, 

Neuer a penny [left] but three, 
And one was brasse, and another was lead, 
And another was white mony. 

10 * Now well-aday ! ' said the heire of Linne, 

1 Now welladay, and woe is mee ! 
For when I was the lord of Linne, 
I neither wanted gold nor fee. 

11 ' For I haue sold my lands soe broad, 

And haue not left me one penny ; 

f., refers to three sixteenth-century story-books which I have 
net seen Kobert, Fables IneMitea, etc , II, 232, in his note 
to La Fontaine, IX, 16, refers to other fabulist*. Clouston, 
Popular Tales and Fictions, II, 55, gives from some old 
magazine a story after the pattern of the Greek distich 



I must goe now and take some read 
Vnto Edenborrow, and begg my bread. 1 

12 He had not beene in Edenborrow 

Not three qwarters of a yeere, 
But some did giue him, and some said nay, 
And some bid ' to the deele gang yee ! 

13 * For if we ahold hang any kindles f eer, 

The first we wold begin with thee.' 
' Now welladay ! ' said the heire of Linne, 
' No[w] welladay, and woe is mee ! 

14 ' For now I have sold my lands soe broad, 

That raery man is irke with mee ; 

But when that I was the lord of Linne, 

Then on my land I liued merrily. 

15 * And now I have sold my land soe broade 

That I haue not left me one pennye ! 
God be with my father ! ' he said, 
' On his land he liued merrily/ 

16 Still in a study there as he stood, 

He vnbethought him of [a] bill ; 
He vnbethought him of [a] bill 

WAich his father had left with him. 

17 Bade him he shold neuer on it looke 

Till he was in extreame neede, 
1 And by my faith,' said the taire of Linne, 
* Then now I had neuer more neede/ 

18 He tooke the bill, and looked it on, 

Good comfort that he found there ; 
Itt told him of a castle wall 

Where there stood three chests in feare. 

19 Two were full of the beaten gold, 

The third was full of white mony ; 
He turned then downe his baggs of bread, 
And filled them full of gold soe red. 

20 Then he did neuer cease nor blinne 

Till lohn of the Scales house he did winne. 
When that he came to lohn of the Scales, 
Vpp at the speere he looked then. 

21 There sate three lords vpon a rowe, 

And lohn o the Scales sate at the bord's 


And lohn o the Scales sate at the bord's head, 
Because he was the lord of Linne. 

22 And then bespake the heire of Linne, 

To lohn o the Scales' wiffe thus sayd hee : 
Sayd, Dame, wilt thou not trust me one shott 
That I may sitt downe in this company ? 

23 ' Now, Christ's curse on my head/ shoe said, 

' If I doe trust thee one pennye ; ' 
Then be-spake a good f ellowe, 

Which sate by lohn o the Scales his knee. 

24 Said, Haue thou here, thou heire of Linne, 

Forty pence I will lend thee ; 
Some time a good fellow thou hast beene ; 
And other forty if neede bee. 

25 The* dru[n]ken wine that was soe cleere, 

And euery man the* made merry ; 
And then bespake him lohn o the Scales, 
Vnto the lord of Linne said hee. 

26 Said, How doest thou, heire of Linne, 

Since 1 did buy thy lands of thee ? 
I will sell it to thee twenty pound better cheepe 
Nor euer I did buy it of thee. 

27 * I draw you to recorde, lord[e]s all,' 

With that he cast him [a] god's penny ; 
Then he tooke to his baggs of bread, 
And they were full of the gold soe redd. 

28 He told him the gold then over the horde, 

It wanted neuer a broad pennye : 
* That gold is thine, the land is mine, 
And the heire of Linne againe I wilbee.' 

29 ' Now welladay ! ' said lohn o the Scales' wife, 

* Welladay, and woe is me ! 
Yesterday I was the lady of Linne, 

And now I am but lohn o the Scales' wiffe ! ' 

30 Sales, Haue thou heere, thou good fellow, 

Forty pence thou did lend me, 
Forty pence thou did lend me, 
And forty pound I will giue thee. 

31 ' Be make thee keeper of my f orrest 

Both of the wild deere and the tame,' 

32 But then bespake the heire of Linne, 

These were the words, and thus said hee, 
Christs curse light vpon my crowne 

If ere my land stand in any ieopardye ! 



a. Buchan's MSS, I, 40. b. Buchan's MSS, II, 
114. o. Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 112. 

1 ' THE bonny heir, and the well-faird heir, 

And the weary heir o Linne, 
Tonder he stands at his father's yetts, 
And naebody bids him come in. 

2 * O see for he gangs, an see for he stands, 

The weary heir o Linne ! 
O see for he stands on the cauld casey, 
And nae an bids him come in ! 

3 * But if he had been his father's heir, 

Or yet the heir o Linne, 
He wadna stand on the cauld casey, 
Some an woud taen him in.' 

4 ' Sing ower again that sang, nourice, 

The sang ye sung just now ; ' 

4 1 never sung a sang in my life 

But I woud sing ower to you. 

5 * O see for he gangs, an see for he stands, 

The weary heir o Linne ! 
O see for he stands on the cauld casey, 
An nae an bids him come in ! 

6 ' But if he had been his father's heir, 

Or yet the heir o Linne, 
He woudna stand on the cauld casye, 
Some an woud taen him in. 

7 * When his father's lands a selling were, 

His claise lay well in fauld, 
But now he wanders on the shore, 
Baith hungry, weet, and cauld.' 

8 As Willie he gaed down the town, 

The gentlemen were drinking ; 
Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass, 

And some bade him gie nane, 
Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass, 

The weary heir o Linne. 

9 As Willie he came up the town, 

The fishers were a' sitting ; 
Some bade gie Willie a fish, a fish, 

Some bade gie him a fin, 
Some bade gie him a fish, a fish, 

And lat the palmer gang. 

10 He turned him right and round about, 

As will as a woman's son, 
And taen his cane into his hand, 
And on his way to Linne. 

11 His nourice at her window lookd, 

Beholding dale and down, 
And she beheld this distressd young man 
Come walking to the town. 

12 ' Come here, come here, Willie,' she said, 

' And rest yoursel wi me ; 

I hae seen you in better days, 

And in jovial companie.' 

13 * Gie me a sheave o your bread, nourice, 

And a bottle o your wine, 
And I '11 pay you it a' ower again, 
When I 'm the laird o Linne.' 

14 ' Ye 'se get a sheave o my bread, Willie, 

And a bottle o my wine, 
But ye '11 pay me when the seas gang dry, 
For ye '11 neer be heir o Linne.' 

15 Then he turnd him right and round about, 

As will as woman's son, 
And aff he set, and bent his way, 
And straightway came to Linne. 

16 But when he came to that castle, 

They were set down to dine ; 
A score o nobles there he saw, 
Sat drinking at the wine. 

17 Then some bade gie him beef, the beef, 

And some bade gie him the bane ; 
And some bade gie him naething at a 1 , 
But lat the palmer gang. 

18 Then out it speaks the new-come laird, 

A saucy word spake hee ; 

* Put round the cup, gie my rival a sup, 

Let him fare on his way.' 

19 Then out it speaks Sir Ned Magnew, 

Ane o young Willie's kin ; 

* This youth was ance a sprightly boy 

As ever lived in Linne.' 

20 He turned him right and round about, 

As will as woman's son, 
Then minded him on a little wee key, 
That his mother left to him. 


21 Hifl mother left [him] this little wee key 

A little before she died ; 
And bade him keep this little wee key 
Till he was in maiat need. 

22 Then forth he went, these nobles left, 

All drinkin* in the room, 
Wi walking rod intill his hand, 
He walked the castle roun. 

23 There he found out a little door, 

For there the key slipped in, 
And there [he] got as muckle red gowd 
As freed the lands o Linne. 

24 Back through the nobles then he went, 

A saucy man was then : 
' I '11 take the cup frae this new-come laird, 
For he neer bade me sit down.' 

25 Then out it speaks the new-come laird, 

He spake wi mock an jeer ; 
< I 'd gie a seat to the laird o Linne, 
Sae be that he were here. 

26 * When the lands o Linne a selling were, 

A* men said they were free ; 
This lad shall hae them frae me this day, 
If he '11 gie the third pennie.' 

27 ' I take ye witness, nobles a', 

Guide witnesses ye '11 be ; 
I 'm promisd the lands o Linne this day, 
If I gie the third pennie.' 

28 * Ye Ve taen us witness, Willie,* they said, 

' Guide witnesses we '11 be ;' 

' Buy the lands o Linne who likes, 
They '11 neer be bought by thee.' 

29 He 's done him to a gaming-table, 

For it stood fair and clean ; 
There he tauld down as much rich gowd 
As freed the lands o Linne. 

30 Thus having done, he turnd about, 

A saucy man was he ; 
' Take up your monie, my lad,' he says, 
' Take up your third pennie. 

31 ' Aft hae I gane wi baref eet cauld, 

Likewise wi legs full bare, 
An mony days walkd at these yetts 
Wi muckle dool and care. 

32 ' But now my sorrow *s past and gane, 

And joy 's returned to me, 
And here I 've gowd enough f orbye, 
Ahin this third pennie.' 

33 As Willie he gaed down the town, 

There he crawd wonderous crouse ; 
He calld the may afore them a', 
The nourice o the house, 

34 ' Come here, come here, my nurse/ he says, 

* 1 11 pay your bread and wine ; 
Seas ebb and flow [as] they wont to do, 
Yet I 'm the laird o Linne.' 

35 As he gaed up the Gallowgate port, 

His hose abeen his sheen ; 
But lang ere he came down again 
Was convoyed by lords fif eteen. 

A. 2. The third and fourth lines are fourth and 


3. There is probably a gap after the second line. 
5 1 . Ff or wanting : supplied from the bottom of 

the preceding page. 
5 4 . a good-06. 7 1 . Lime. 
8 1 , 9 a , 12 s , 18*, 19', 21 1 . 3. 13 1 . Land selfeer. 
16 a has bin prefixed to it 19 1 . 2. 20 1 . blime. 
20 8 . Scalels : misprint ? 21 a has bis prefixed. 
20, 21, are written together. 
TOL. v. 8 

24*, 30H 40. 26. 20?. 28, 32 1 . Lime. 
30 marked bis. 30*. 40 1 .. 
B. a. 9 a . a; b, all. 14 a . oyour. 
14*. But ye '11 :c/. b. 

23 s . For there ; perhaps simply For ( = Where), 
b. 1 wanting. 2*. on that 2', 3 8 t 5 s , 6 1 , causey. 
4 1 . that sang again. 
6 1 . if ye, wrongly. 13, 14 follow 6. 
7 wanting. 9*. were all. 
9*. And some : gie 'm. 10-12 wanting. 



34 s , 
34 4 . 
35 1 . 

13 1 . twa sheaves. 13 s . And ae glass. 

13 1 . And I will pay you them back again. 

13*. The day I 'm heir of. 14*. get three sheaves. 

14 s . And twa glass. 

14'. But I '11 be paid : sea gangs. 14 4 . For ye '11. 

15-19 wanting. 

20 1 - s . As Willie was sitting one day alane, 

And nae body him wi. 
20*. He minded on. 
20*. That 's mither to him did gie. 
20** 6 . Bade him never open a lock wi it 

Ere the greatest strait he could see. 
21, 22 wanting. 
23. Then he did spy a little wee lock, 

And the key gied linking in, 
And he got goud and money therein 

To pay the lands o Linne. 
24-32 wanting. 
35, 33, 34, for 33-35. 
33 1 * s . When Willie he came to the ha, 

There he cried out wonderous crouse. 
84 1 . Come down, come down, nourice, he said. 
34 s . Ere I pay you your. 

For ye will be paid ere the seas gang dry. 
For this day I 'm heir. 
As Willie he gied down the town. 
35'. But when that he came up again. 
Both Motherwell in copying the ballad (which 
he in all likelihood received from Buchan), 
and Dixon in printing it, made a few changes : 
as (Motherwell) the northern for in 2 1 * 8 , to 
whare, but not in 29 2 , where for also*- where. 
3. " The editor can trace the air and ballad here 
given as far back as 1775, through an aged rel- 
ative who died in 1842 in her eightieth year, 
and who had it from her mother." Christie 
neither professed nor practised a rigid fidel- 
ity to texts, and this copy, at best not a valu- 
able one,' is given for the little it may be 

1 O YONDER he stands, and there he gangs, 

The weary heir o Linne, 
Yonder he stands on the cauld causey, 
And nane bids him come in. 

2 But it fell ance upon a day 

The sheets were laid in fauld, 
And poor Willie found he had nae friends, 
And it was wondrous cauld. 

3 ( Oh, one sheave o your bread, nourice, 

And one glass o your wine, 

And I will pay you oer again 
When I am laird o Linne/ 

4 ' Oh, one sheave o my bread, Willie, 

And one glass o my wine, 
But the seas will be dry ere ye pay me again, 
For ye '11 never be laird o Linne.' 

5 But he mind't him up, and he mind't him down, 

And he mind't him oer again, 
And he mind't him on a little wee key 
That his mother gae to him. 

6 He did him to the house o Linne, 

He sought it up and down, 
And there he found a little wee door, 
And the key gaed slippin in. 

7 And he got gowd, and he got gear, 

He got gowd stord within, 
And he got gowd, and he got gear, 
Thrice worth the lands o Linne. 

S He did him to the tavern straight, 

Where nobles were drinking therein ; 
The greatest noble among them a* 
Was near to Willie o kin. 

9 And some of them bade him fish to eat, 

And some of them bade him a fin, 
And some of them bade him nothing at a', 
For he 'd never be father's son. 

10 But out it spake an aged knicht, 

And vow but he spake slie 1 
1 1 '11 sell you your father's land back again 
All for the third pennie.' 

11 4 1 take witness upon you here,' he says, 

' I take witness upon thee, 
That you will sell me my father's land again 
All for the third pennie.' 

12 Then he took out a little wee coffer, 

And he set it on his knee, 
And he told the goud down on the table roun, 
Says, Tak up your third pennie. 

13 * Come ben, come ben, my good nourice, 

I '11 pay you when you come ben ; 
For the seas are not dry, and I '11 pay you back 

For I 'm again the laird o Linne.' 

14 Poor Willie that night at eight o'clock 

Had his stockings abeen his sheen, 
But ere the morrow at twelve o'clock 
He was convoyd by lords sixteen. 




(From a Broadside among Percy's Papers.) 




1 YOUNG people all I pray draw near, 
And listen to my ditty here, 

Which subject shews that drunkenness 
Brings many mortals to distress. 

2 As for example now I can 
Tell you of one, a gentleman, 
Who had a very good estate ; 

His earthly travels they were great 

3 We understand he had a son 
Who a lewd wicked race did run ; 
He daily spent his father's store, 
When moneyless he came for more. 

4 The father oftentimes with tears 
Would sound this alarm in his ears : 

' Son, thou dost all thy comforts blast, 
And thou wilt come to want at last.' 

5 The son these words did little mind ; 
To cards and dice he was inchnd, 
Feeding his drunken appetite 

In taverns, which was his delight 

6 The father, ere it was too late, 
He had a project in his pate, 
Before his aged days were gone 
To make provision for his son. 

7 Near to his house, we understand, 
He had a waste plat of land, 
Which did but little profit yield, 
On which he had a cottage built 

8 ' The Wise-Man's Project ' was its name ; 
There was few windows in the same ; 
Only one door, substantifaj thing, 

Shut by a lock went by a spring. 

9 Soon after he had playd this trick, 
It was his lot for to fall sick ; 

As on his bed he did lament, 
Then for his drunken son he sent 

10 Who, sent for, came to his bed-side ; 
Seeing his son, he then reply'd, 
1 1 sent for you to make my will, 
Which do you faithfully fulfil. 

11 'To such one cottage is one door; 
Neer open it, do thou be sure, 
Until thou art so poor (hat all 

Do then despise you, great and small. 

12 ' For to my grief I do perceive 
When I am dead this life you live 
Will soon melt all thou hast away : 
Do not forget these words, I pray. 

18 ' When thou hast made thy friends thy foes, 
Pawnd all thy lands, and sold thy cloaths, 
Break ope the door, and there depend 
To find something thy grief to end/ 

14 Thus being spoke, the son did say, 
Your dying words I will obey ; 
Soon after this his father dear 
Did die and buried was, we hear. 


15 Now pray observe the second part. 
And you shall hear his sottish heart : 
He did in taverns so frequent 

Till he three hundred pounds had spent 

16 This being done, we understand 
He pawnd the deeds of all his land 
Unto a tavern-keeper, who 

When poor did him no favour shew. 

17 For to fulfil his father's will 

He did command this cottage still ; 
At length great sorrow was his share, 
Quite moneyless, with garments bare. 

18 Being not able for to work, 

He in the tavern there did lurk, 
From box to box, among rich men. 
Who often times revil'd him then. 

19 To see him sneak so up and down. 
The vintner on him he did frown, 
And one night kickd him out of door, 
Charging him to come there no more. 

SO He in a stall did lie all night, 

In this most sad and w[r]etched plight ; 
Then thought it was high time for he 
His father's legacy to see. 

21 Next morning, then, opprest with woe, 
This young man got an iron crow, 
And, as in tears he did lament, 

Unto this little cottage went 

22 When he this door had open got, 
This poor distressed drunken sot, 
Who did for store of money hope, 
He saw a gibbet and a rope. 



23 Under this rope was plac'd a stool, 
Which made him look much like a fool, 
Crying, Alas, what shall I do ! 
Destruction now appears in view. 

24 ' As my father foresaw this thing, 
What sottishness to me would bring, 
As moneyless and free of grace, 
This legacy I will embrace/ 

25 So then, opprest with discontent, 
Upon the stool he sighing went, 
And then, hie precious life to check, 
Did place this rope about his neck. 

26 Crying, Thou God, who sittst on high, 
Who on my sorrows hast an eye, 

But them knowst I have not done well, 
Preserve my precious soul from hell. 

27 ' 'T is true the slighting of thy grace 
Brought me to this most wretched case, 
And as thro folly I 'm undone, 

I '11 now eclipse my morning sun.' 

28 When he with sigh had these words spoke, 
Jumpt off, and down the gibbet broke ; 

In falling, as it plain appears, 

Droppd down about this young man's ears, 

29 In shining gold, a thousand pound, 
Which made the blood his ears surround : 
Tho in amaze, he cry'd, I *m sure 

This golden salve will heal the sore. 

30 Blest be my father,' then he cry'd, 
( Who did this portion for me hide, 
And while I do alive remain 

I never will be drunk again/ 


31 Now by [the] third part you will hear 
This young man, as it does appear, 
With care he then secur'd his chink, 
And to this vintner went to drink. 

32 When the proud vintner did him see, 
He frownd on him immediately, 
And said, Begone, or else with speed 
I '11 kick thee out of doors indeed. 

33 With smiles the young man he did say, 
Thou cruel knave, tell me, I pray, 

As I have here consumed my store, 
What makes thee kick me out of door ? 

34 To me thou hast been too severe ; 
The deeds of eight-score pounds a year 
I pawnd them for three hundred pound ; 
Which I spent here ; what makes thee frown ? 

85 The vintner said unto him, Sirrah, 
Bring me one hundred pounds tomorrow 
By nine o'clock, take them again : 

So get you out of doors till then. 

86 He answerd, If this chink I bring, 
I fear thou wilt do no such thing ; 
He said, I '11 give under mine hand 
A note that I to this will stand. 

87 Having the note, away he goes, 
And straightway went to one of those 
Who made him drink when moneyless, 
And did the truth to him confess. 

88 They both went to this heap of gold, 
Wherre in a bag he fairly told 

A thousand pounds in yellow boys, 
And to this tavern went their ways. 

39 This bag they on the table set, 
Which made the vintner for to fret, 
And said, Young man, this will not do, 
For I was but in, jest with you. 

40 So then bespoke this young man's friend, 
And [said], Vintner, thou mayst depend 
In law this note it will you cast, 

And he must have his land at last 

41 This made the vintner to comply, 
Who fetchd the deeds immediately ; 
He had one hundred pounds, and then 
The young man got his deeds again. 

42 At length, the vintner, for to think 
How he was foold out of his chink, 
Said, When 't is found how I came off 
My neighbours will me game and scoff. 

43 So, to prevent their game and laughter, 
The vintner, in a few days after, 
Being void of grace, as will appear, 
He cut his throat from ear to ear. 

44 Thus he untimely left the world, 
Who to this young man prov'd a churl ; 
Now he who followd drunkenness 
Lives sober and [does] his lands possess. 

45 Instead of wasting all his store, 
As formerly, resolves no more 

To act the same, but does inde[e]d 
Poor fatherless and mother- feed. 

46 * And let all young men, for my sake, 
Take care how you such harock make, 
For drunkenness, you plain may see, 
Was near my ruin for to be.' 

Printed and sold in Bow-Church-Yard, London 




Buohan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 271. 

A KNIGHT and a squire, sworn brothers, 
have a talk about fair women. ' There 's nae 
gude women but nine,' says the squire. ' My 
luck is the better,' replies the knight, 'that 
one of them is mine.' The squire undertakes 
to win the knight's wife within six months, if 
the husband will go over seas for that time ; 
the knight is willing to give him nine months. 
The knight's lands are wagered (21) against 
the squire's life (23). As soon as the knight 
is at sea, the squire comes to the lady with an 
offer of money. If you were not my lord's 
brother, says the lady, I would hang you on a 
pin before my door. The squire betakes him- 
self to his foster-mother, sets forth his case, 
and offers her a heavy bribe for her aid. The 
false carline goes to the lady and opens her 
business ; the lady will never wrong her lord. 
The carline (who is the wife's foster-mother 
as well) now pretends concern about the 
lady's health, which is in danger for want of 
sleep. She turns all the people out of the 
castle, lulls the dame to sleep, and introduces 
the squire. He wakes the lady, and tells her 
tliat she is in his power. The lady has pres- 
ence of mind ; it would, she says, be a sin to 
defile her husband's bed, but she will come to 
the squire's bed at night. She then offers 
her niece five hundred pounds to go to the 
squire in her place. The young woman was 
never so much disposed to say nay, but goes, 
notwithstanding. When the squire has had 
his will, he cuts off * her ring but and her ring- 
finger.' The maids come from the hay, the 
young men from the corn, and the lady tells 
them all that has passed. She will tie her 
finger in the dark, and hopes to loose it in 
the light. The knight returns, and is greeted 

by the squire as a landless lord. The ring 
and ring-finger are exhibited in proof. There- 
upon the knight gives a dinner, to which he 
asks the squire and his wife's parents. He 
throws his charters across the table and bids 
his wife farewell forever. It is now time for 
the lady to loose in the light the finger which 
she had tied in the dark. Come here, my 
lord, she says. No smith can join a finger. 
My niece 4 beguiled the squire for me.' They 
lay before the niece a sword and a ring, and 
she is to have her choice, to stick the squire 
with the sword, or to wed him with the ring. 
Thrice she puts out her hand as if to take the 
sword, but she ends with taking up the ring. 

This ballad can have had no currency in 
Scotland, and perhaps was known only through 
print. A similar one is strictly traditional in 
Greece, and widely dispersed, both on the 
mainland and among the islands. 

Romaic. A. NcocAAi/nKa' AvaXcjera, I, 80, 
No 16, 75 W., Melos. B. * To oW^/Aa TOV 
/3curiXia KO.I TOV Mav/Mavov,' Jeannaraki, p. 231, 
No 294, 76 w., Crete. O. 'O Mavptavos *al 6 
/Sao-iAevV Zampelios, p. 719, No 6, 61 w., Cor- 
cyra (?) ; repeated in Passow, p. 365, No 474, 
Kind's Anthologie, p. 56. D. <ToS Mav/uavo- 
TrovXov,' Manousos, II, 56, 51 vv., Corcyra (?). 

B. < 'O Mavpuxvos K 6 /JatriXea*,' Pappadopoulos 

in ncw&opo, XV, 417, 23 vv., Cargese, Corsica; 
repeated in Legrand, p. 802, No 136. P. 

AcXrt'ov ri}s 'urropuerp *<u cfooXoyiJo?? rrcupias ri} 

'EXXaSos, I, 551, No 5, 85 vv., Peloponnesus. 
G. ' 'O Sravptavo? *<u 6 /fatrtXta?,' Melandrakes, 
in the same, III, 345, 54 w., Patmos. H. 

' To 2rotxi7/xa,' Kanellakes, Xtcuca dvaXcKra, p. 8, 

No 5, 50 w., Chios. I a. Bartholdy, Bruch- 
stiicke zur nahern Kenntniss des heutigen 



Oriechenlands, 1805, p. 484, 78 vv., translation 
without text b. 'MaurogSne,' Lemercier, I, 
167, translation without text, neighborhood 

of Arta. J. * STotxifluo, AIOKV *al Xavro-apAi},' 

Chasiotes, p. 142, No 14, 26 w., Epirus. 

The personages are Mav/wavo9,B-E, Mavyiavos, 
A, Mavrogeni, I, Sravpcavos, G, Pianos, P, Kw- 
ararrfcH; his sister, A-I, 'Aperrj, D, Mapa>, P, 

Aw/j, G-, and in I b (unless the name is sup- 
plied by the editor), Cymodore ; a king, anon- 
ymous except in J, Atovus, in which also the 
other two parties are husband (6 x avr(rM pM}*> 
the chancellor) and wife. 

At the king's table there is talk of women 
fair or foul. Maurianos extols his sister (the 
chancellor his wife, I), whom gifts cannot se- 
duce. What shall be your forfeit, asks the 
king, if I seduce her ? Maurianos stakes his 
head, A-I, and the girl is to be the king's 
slave, H ; the king, his kingdom and crown, 
A, B, his property, 0, P, There is a mutual 
wager of nine towers of silver, J. The young 
man is to be a prisoner till the morning, I. 
The king begins, in A, B, by engaging the 
services of witches eighteen, witches fifteen, 
or bawds eighteen, witches fifteen. They ply 
their magic early and late : forty days to get 
up her stair, other four-and-forty to get sight 
of the girl, A. They address her with flat- 
teries, but are rebuffed, A, B. The king sends 
rich presents, A, C-I ; beasts laden with sil- 
ver and money, nine, twelve, twenty and 
again ten. The girl receives them with pro- 
fessions of pleasure ; her brother will return 
the compliment to the giver. It is explained 
that no return is looked for ; the presents are 
from the king, who desires to pass the night 
with her. (In J the king goes straight to 
the wife, and says that he has her husband's 
permission.) The lady affects to put herself 
at the king's disposition. She appeals to her 
maid-servants, A, B ; first her " nurses," then 
her maids, C ; one servant, and then another, 
H. Which of them will enable her to keep her 
word, change clothes with her, and pass the 
night with the king ? Only Maria, the young- 
est of all (of forty, B), is willing to stead her 
mistress in this strait, A-C. In D-G-, I, J, 
there is but one nurse or servant, and she as- 

sents, or follows her mistress's directions as a 
matter of course. The servant is to have the 
king's present in D. The substitute is elabo- 
rately combed and dressed, with a gold band 
round her hair, and a beautiful ring on her 
finger. At midnight, or before dawn, the 
king cuts off the finger that has the ring, A, 
I, her finger, B, P, G, H (fingers, B, v. 48), 
little finger, D, E ; takes the ring from her 
finger, C, all the rings from her fingers, J. 
He also cuts off her hair (braid), with its 
golden band, B (braids, v. 43), C, I her hair 
(braid), with the golden flowers, A, with the 
pearl, H, right braid, D, braid, F, G, I, ex- 
tremity of her braid, E. These are to serve 
as tokens ; he puts them in his handkerchief, 

A, D. He takes his trophies to the assembly. 
Maurianos has lost his wager, and is to be 
hanged. Where is Maurianos, the braggart, 
and where his precious sister, whom no gifts 
could seduce? Word comes to the sister. 
She dresses herself beautifully, and makes her 
way into the assembly ; she would fain know 
why they are to hang Maurianos. * I have se- 
duced his sister,' says the king, ' and I will 
hang Maurianos.' The girl demands tokens. 
' I cut off her finger, with the golden sapphire ; 
I cut off her hair, with the golden flowers 
(band).' She extends her hand; the earth 
is filled with sapphires. ' See, lords I are fin- 
gers of mine wanting ? ' She flings out her 
hair ; the earth is filled with flowers. ' See, 
lords ! is a braid of mine wanting ? ' (A, B, 
and the rest to the same effect.) Then she 
turns to the king. 'It fits you no more to 
play the king,' A, B. ' Yon have slept with 
my slave, and my slave you shall be,' C-L 
' Take my mule and go fetch wood. 9 In A, 

B, the king has to marry Maria. In F, John 
becomes king (as a consequence of winning 
the wager). In I, the people depose the king 
and make Maurianos's sister queen. 

There are numerous tales in which a man 
wagers heavily upon a woman's (generally his 
wife's) constancy, and, upon plausible evi- 
dence, which in the end proves to be nuga- 
tory, is adjudged to have lost.* We are con- 

* The cutting off the hair from a woman substituted ocean 
in the fabliau ' Dea Treacea,' Barbazan et M&n, IV, 393, 



cerned only with a small section of these sto- 
ries, characterized by the circumstances that 
the woman whose virtue is questioned puts 
another woman in her place in the encounter 
with the assailant, and that the proofs of suc- 
cess offered are a finger, finger-ring, and head, 
or braid, of hair * (one of these, or more). 

A rhymed tale of the thirteenth century, 
* Von zwein Kaufmannen,' by Ruprecht von 
Wiirzburg,t has the following story, evidently 
French by origin. Bertram, a merchant of 
Verdun, who has been happily married for ten 
years, is required in the course of business to 
go to a fair at Provins. While he is sitting 
at table in an inn with other merchants, Ho 
gier, the host, sets his guests to talking of 
their wives, and three of them give a very 
bad account of their domestic experiences. 
Bertram, when urged to take his turn, pro- 
fesses himself the most fortunate of men, for 
his wife (Irmengard) is, for beauty, sense, 
modesty, manners, the flower of womankind. 
The host declares that the man is mad, and 
offers to stake all his goods against Bertram's 
that he will seduce this peerless wife within 
six months. The wager is accepted, and Ber- 
tram, to afford an opportunity, sends his wife 
word that he shall be gone from home longer 
than he had intended. Hogier goes to Ver- 
dun and takes a lodging opposite to Bertram's 
house. He begins with presents and messages 
to Irmengard; she treats these with con- 

tempt, and threatens to make a complaint to 
her friends. He gives bounties to the ser- 
vants, who sing his praises to their mistress 
till they are told that they will be thrashed 
if they continue. He then gives a pound to 
Irmengard's favorite maid, Amelin, and com- 
missions her to offer a hundred mark if he 
may have his will ; and the wife proving to 
be both firm and indignant, he raises his offer 
to two hundred mark, and finally to a thou- 
sand for one night. Not only the maid, but 
Irmengard's own father and her husband's 
father, to whom she successively appeals, urge 
her to take this large sum, and assure her that 
she will incur her husband's resentment if she 
does not. A way out of her difficulties now 
occurs to her (which the author of the poem 
represents as an express suggestion from God). 
She asks the maid if she will give Hogier a 
night for the consideration of a hundred mark; 
Amelin is ready so to do for half the money. 
Hogier is told to pay in his thousand, and an 
appointment is made. Irmengard receives 
him in Amelin's garb, and Amelin in Irmen- 
gard's. In the morning Hogier asks for some 
jewel as a keepsake, and the maid having 
nothing to give him, he cuts off one of her 
fingers. He now calls upon Bertram to pay 
his forfeit. Bertram has some doubt whether 
he has not been tricked. It is mutually agreed 
that the matter shall be settled at a banquet 
which Bertram is to give at Verdun. Ber- 

Montaigton et Raynaud, IV, 67, and Meon, Nouveau Re- 
cueil, I, 343, Montaiglon et Raynaud, V, 132 (a different 
version) , Boccaccio, Decameron, vn, 8 , ' Der verkfirte 
Wirt,' von der Hagen's Gesammtabenteuer, II, 337, No 43 . 
all varieties of one story. See also 'Der Reiger/ p 157 of 
the same volume of von der Hagen, No 31, and the literary 
history of No 43, at p. XLII. B&ier, Les Fabliaux, p. 149 
ff., refers to several other examples. 

* The more important of the stories which lack the dis- 
tinctive traits of the Scottish and Romaic ballads are. 
Roman de la Violette, thirteenth century (ed Michel, 1834) ; 
Roman du Comte de Poitiers, thirteenth century (ed Michel, 
1831) ; Li Contes dn Roi Flore et de la biclle Jehane, thir- 
teenth century, Moland et d'Htfricanlt, 1856, p. 85, and Mon- 
merque' et Michel, Theatre Fra^ais an Moyen Age, 1842, p. 
417 ; Miracle de Nostre Dame, Conmeut Ostes, roy d'Es- 
paingne, perdi ga terre par gagier contre Berengier, etc., Mon- 
merque' et Michel, as before, p. 431, and Miracles de Nostre 
Dame, Q. Paris et U Robert, IV, 319 ; an episode in Perce- 
forest, vol iv, cc. 16, 17, retold by Bandello, Part I, Nov. 21 
(R. Kohler, in Jahrbuch ftir Rom. n. Bog. Lit., VIII, 51 ff. ) 

the story of Bernabb da Geneva da Ambrnoginolo ingan- 
nato, Boccaccio, Decameron, n, 9, repeated in Shakspere's 
Cymbeline and many other pieces. Popular tales with the 
wager are Campbell, West Highlands, II, 1, No 18 ; J. W. 
Wolfs Deutsche Hausmarchen, p 355 ; Sim rock, Deutsche 
Marchen, p. 235 (ed. 1864), No 51 ; Prohle, Kinder- und 
Volksmarchen, No 61, p. 179 (see also p. XLII) ; Das Ant- 
land, 1856, p. 1053, Roumanian; Miklosich, Marchen n. 
Lieder der Zigeuner der Bukowina, p. 49, No 14 ; Bernoni, 
Fiabe veneziane, p. 1, No 1 ; Gonzenbach, I, 38, No 7 ; Pitre, 
Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti siciliani, II, 142, 165, Noa 73, 75 ; 
Imbriani, Novellaja fiorentina, p. 483. (Some of these have 
been cited by Kohler, some by Landau.) See, in general, 
the Grimms, Altdentsche Wilder, 1, 35 ff., n, 181 f. ; von der 
Hagen's Gesammtabenteuer, introduction to No LXVin, 
especially III, xci-cix ; R. Kohler, as above, and in Orient 
n. Occident, II, 315 ; Landau, Quellen des Dekameron, 1884, 
p 135 ff. ; R. Ohle, Shakespeares Cymbeline nnd seine ro- 
manischen Vorlaufer, Berlin, 1890. 

t Altdeutsche Walder, I, 35 ; ron der Hagen, Gesammt- 
abenteuer, III, 357. 



tram, upon his return home, cannot conceal a 
deep depression. His wife asks him the cause, 
and he opens his mind to her ; she bids him 
be of good cheer, for all Hogier's goods are 
theirs. At the banquet Hogier states his case, 
and produces the finger in confirmation of his 
claim. Irmengard, asked what answer she 
has to make, humorously replies that she is 
sorry for her misbehavior, but all her friends, 
there present, had advised her to commit it. 
She then shows her hands, both unmarred. 
Amelin comes in and complains of the treat- 
ment she has received. Hogier owns that he 
has lost, and desires to become Bertram's 
'poor man.' Amelin is given him as wife, 
with her hundred mark for a dowry. Here 
we have wager, substitution, finger cut off, as 
in the Scottish ballad and most of the Romaic 
versions, and the loser marries the maid, as in 
the Scottish ballad and Romaic A, B. 

The Mabinogi of Taliesin, " in its present 
form not older than the thirteenth century," 
has the incidents of the substitution of the 
maid-servant, the finger and finger-ring, with 
the modification that the wife's general high 
character, and not simply her continence, is 
impugned and vindicated. 

At a Christmas feast in the palace of King 
Maelgwn, the company were discoursing of the 
unequalled felicity of the king, upon whom 
heaven had bestowed, with every other good 
gift, a queen whose virtues exceeded those of 
all the noble ladies in the kingdom. Elphin, 
Maelgwn's nephew, said, None but a king 
may vie with a king ; otherwise he would say 
that his own wife was as virtuous as any lady 
in the kingdom. Maelgwn was not there to 
hear this boast, but it was duly reported to 
him, and he ordered Elphin to be thrown into 
prison, pending a test of Elphin's wife which 
he deputed his graceless son, Rhun, to make. 
Taliesin, Elphin's bard, warned the lady that 
Rhun would try to put some disgrace upon 
her, and advised that one of the servants 
should personate her mistress when Rhun 
came to the house. Accordingly, a kitchen- 
maid waa dressed up in her mistress's clothes, 
and was seated at the supper-table, her hands 
loaded with rings. Rhun made his appear- 

ance and was welcomed by the disguised 
menial. He fell to jesting with her, put a 
powder into her drink, which cast her into a 
sound sleep, and cut off her little finger, on 
which was Elphin's signet-ring. The king 
assembled his councillors, had Elphin brought 
in from prison, and showed him the finger, 
which (so Rhun had averred) had been cut 
from his wife's hand the preceding night, 
while she was sunk in a drunken sleep. Elphin 
could not deny that the ring was his, but he 
gave three incontrovertible reasons why the 
finger could not be his wife's, one of these be- 
ing that the ring was too large to stay on his 
wife's thumb, yet too small to go over the 
joint of the little finger of the hand from which 
it had been cut ; and the fact was put beyond 
question by Taliesin's afterwards bringing in 
Elphin's wife at a state-dinner, and displaying 
her unmutilated hand. 411 

A lively play of Jakob Ayrer's (about 
1600) has the wager, the substitution, the 
ring offered in evidence (as in Romaic 0, G), 
the marriage with the maid. 

Claudius, master of the hunt to the Prince 
of Calabria, on the eve of his departure on a 
voyage, is heard by two courtiers, Leipolt and 
Seiibolt, soliloquizing on the excellences of 
his wife, Frigia, her housekeeping, virtue, and 
love for him. They wager all their goods 
against his that they will bring the woman to 
do their will. One undertakes to present her 
wedding-ring, the other her necklace, in proof 
of the achievement* Leipolt and Seiibolt, 
always acting severally, attempt to buy the 
services of Jahn Tiirck, a quick-witted and 
loyal servant of Claudius. He tells every- 
thing to his mistress, and by his advice she 
dresses two of her maids in her clothes and 
lets them meet the men, warning them to 
keep within bounds. Leipolt and Seiibolt, 
each finding the supposed lady coy, are con- 
tent to secure the means of winning their 
wager, and, by Frigia's connivance (who, it 
seems, had come to knowledge of the wager 
through Jahn), one of them receives her ring, 

Lady Charlotte Guest's Mabinogion, Fan VII, pp. 364- 
83, or p. 477 ff. of the edition of 1B77 ; an abstract in E. 
Jonea'i Bardic Museum, p. 19. 



the other her necklace, as pretended love- 
tokens* Claudius comes home. Leipolt in- 
forms the prince of the wager, and asks Clau- 
dius whether he knows the ring and will pay ; 
Seubolt brings out the necklace. Claudius 
gives all for lost. The prince sends for Frigia. 
She challenges the courtiers to say that she 
has misbehaved with them. They own that 
they have never laid eyes on her, but they 
recognize the maids when they are brought 
in, still in their mistress's clothes. Frigia 
explains in detail. The prince addresses his 
councillors (for such they are) in terms of 
exemplary severity, and adjudges them to 
marry the maids, making over one third of 
their property to these and another to Clau- 
dius, or to lose their heads. (Compare the 
Scottish ballad at the end.) They prefer to 
keep their heads.* 

A Danish ballad, very popular in the six- 
teenth and seventeenth centuries, has the 
wager (only on the part of the assailant), but 
the story takes a different turn from the fore- 
going, for the irresistible knight has simply a 
conversation with the lady, in which he meets 
with a definitive repulse. 

4 Vaeddemaalet/ 4 Herr Lave og Herr Tver 
Blaa/ Grundtvig, IV, 302, No 224, A-L, 
Kristensen, I, 819, No 118, X, 137, No 36 ; 

Prior, III, 28, No 104. Lange (Lave) and 
Peder (Iver) sit at the board talking of wives 
and fair maids. Peder asserts that the maid 
lives not in the world whom he cannot cajole 
with a word. Lange knows the maid so vir- 
tuous that neither words nor gold can beguile. 
Peder wagers life (gold, goods, house, land) 
and neck (halsbane) that she shall be his by 
the morrow. He rides straightway to Inge, 
lil, Thorlof s daughter, and makes love to her 
in honorable phrase. Ingelil reminds him of 
two ladies who have received the same profes- 
sions from him and been betrayed. If she 
will be his dear, every finger shall wear the 
red gold : her father has nine gold rings, and 
would give them all to her if she wished. If 
she will be his, she shall have a train of ser- 
vants, out and in : she is not halt or blind, 
and can go out and in by herself. If he can- 
not have his will with her, it will cost him his 
white halsbane : much better so than that 
he should cheat her, or any honorable maid* 
Peder rides away sorrowful, for lost is gold 
and his white halsbane besides.! We have 
already had the Scottish counterpart of this 
ballad, with variations for better or worse, in 
'Redesdale and Wise William,' IV, 383, No 
246, A-C. 

1 THESE were twa knights in fair Scotland, 

And they were brothers sworn ; 
They made a vow to be as true 
AJB if they 'd been brothers born. 

2 The one he was a wealthy knight, 

Had lands and buildings free ; 
The other was a young hynde squire, 
In rank of lower degree. 

3 But it fell ance upon a day 

These squires they walkd alone, 

* Ayren Dramen, heransgegeben von A. von Keller, IV, 
2279, N6 30 ; Comedia TOD zweyen f urstlichen rathen die 
alle beede umb ernes gewetta willen umb ein weib bultcn, 
u. s. w. 

t There ii another Danish ballad in which two knights 
VOL. T. 4 

And to each other they did talk 
About the fair women. 

4 ' O wed a may/ the knight did say, 

' For your credit and fame ; 
Lay never your love on lemanry, 
Bring nae gude woman to shame.' 

5 ' There 's nae gude women/ the squire did say, 

' Into this place but nine ; ' 
* O well falls me/ the knight replied, 
' For ane o them is mine/ 

wager on a maid's fidelity, bat it is of entirely different tenor, 
the maid being lured by a magical horn : ' Ridderene Bone- 
slag/ Grundtvig, H, 285, No 73, A-B, 'Bidder Oles Lad,' 
Kri0teasen t U, 108, 353, No 34, A-C; Prior, m, 34, No 



6 * Ye say your lady ' a gnde woman, 

Bat I say she is nane ; 
I think that I could gain her love 
Ere BIZ months they are gane. 

7 ' If ye will gang six months away, 

And sail upon the faem, 
Then I will gain your lady's lore 
Before that ye come hame.' 

8 ' O I '11 gang tiQ a far countrie, 

And far beyond the faem, 
And ye winna gain my lady's love 
Whan ri nft lang months are gane*' 

9 When the evening sun did set, 

And day came to an end, 
In then came the lady's gude lord, 
Just in at yon town's end. 

10 ' O comely are ye, my lady gay, 

Sae fair and rare to see ; 
I wish whan I am gane away 
Te keep your mind to me.' 

11 She gae 'm a baaon to wash in, 

But aye as she gaed but and ben 
She loot the saut tears fa. 

12 ( I wonder what ails my gude lord 

He has sic jealousie ; 
Never when we parted before, 
He spak sic words to me.* 

13 When cocks did craw, and day did daw, 

This knight was fair at sea ; 
Then in it came the young hynde squire, 
To work him villanie. 

14 ' I hae a coffer o gude red gowd, 

Another o white monie ; 
I woud gie you 't a', my gay lady, 
To lye this night wi me.' 

15 ( If ye warna my lord's brother, 

And him sae far f rae hame, 

Even before my ain bower-door 

I *d gar hang you on a pin.' 

16 He 's gane frae the lady's bower, 

Wi the saut tear in his ee, 

And he is to his foster-mother 
As fast as gang ooud he. 

17 * There is a fancy in my head 

That 1 11 reveal to thee, 
And your assistance I will crave 
If ye will grant it me. 

18 ' I 've fifty guineas in my pocket, 

I Ve fifty o them and three, 

And if ye '11 grant what I request 

Ye 'se hae them for your fee.' 

19 * Speak on, speak on, ye gude hynde squire, 

What may your asking be ? 
I kenna wha woud be sae base 
As nae serve for sic a fee.' 

20 * I hae wagerd wi my brother, 

When he went to the faem, 
That I woud gain his lady's love 
Ere six months they were gane. 

21 * To me he laid his lands at stake 

Tho he were on the faem, 
I wudna gain his lady's love 

Whan nine lang months were gane. 

22 * Now I hae tried to gain her love, 

But finds it winna do ; 
And here I 'm come, as ye her know, 
To seek some help frae you. 

23 'For I did lay my life at stake, 

Whan my brother went frae hame, 
That I woud gain his lady's love 
Whan he was on the faem.' 

24 But when the evening sun was set, 

And day came to an end, 

In it came that f ause carline, 

Just in at yon town's end. 

25 ' comely are ye, my gay lady, 

Your lord is on the faem ; 
Yon unco squire will gain your love, 
Before that he come hame.' 

26 < Forbid it,' said the lady fair, 

' That eer the like shoud be, 
That I woud wrang my ain gude lord, 
And him sae far at sea.' 



27 <O comely are ye, my gay lady, 

Stately is your fair bodie ; 
Tour lovely visage is far chang'd, 
That is best known to me. 

28 ' Tou 're sair dune out for want o sleep 

Sin your lord went to sea ; 
Unless that ye do cease your grief, 
It will your ruin be. 

29 ' You '11 send your maids unto the hay, 

Your young men unto the corn ; 
1 11 gar ye sleep as soun a sleep 
As the night that ye were born/ 

30 She sent her maids to ted the hay, 

Her men to shear the corn, 
And she gard her sleep as soun a sleep 
As the night that she was born. 

31 She rowd that lady in the silk, 

Laid her on holland sheets ; 
Wi fine enchanting melodie, 
She lulld her fast asleep. 

32 She lockd the yetts o that castle 

Wi thirty locks and three, 
Then went to meet the young hynde squire 
To him the keys gae she. 

33 He 's opend the locks o that castle, 

Were thirty and were three, 
And he 's gane where that lady lay, 
And thus to her said he. 

34 O wake, O wake, ye gay lady, 

wake and speak to me ; 
I hae it fully in my power 

To come to bed to thee/ 

35 ' For to defile my husband's bed, 

1 woud think that a sin ; 

As soon as this lang day is gane, 
Then I shall come to thine/ 

36 Then she has calld her niece Maisry, 

Says, An asking ye 11 grant me, 
For to gang to yon unco squire 
And sleep this night for me. 

37 ' The gude red gowd shall be your hire, 

And siller 's be your fee ; 

Five hundred pounds o pennies round, 
Your tocher it shall be/ 

38 She turnd her right and round about, 

And thus to her did say ; 
O there was never a time on earth 
So fain 's I woud say nay. 

39 But when the evening sun was set, 

And day drawn to an end, 

Then Lady Maisry she is gane, 

Fair out at yon town-end. 

40 Then she is to yon hynde squire's yates, 

And tirled at the pin ; 
Wha was sae busy as the hynde squire 
To lat that lady in! 

41 He 's taen her in his arms twa, 

He was a joyf u man ; 
He neither bade her meat nor drink, 
But to the bed he ran. 

42 When he had got his will o her, 

His will as he lang sought, 

Her ring but and her ring-finger 

Away frae her he brought. 

43 With discontent straight home she went, 

And thus lamented she ; 
Says, Wae be to yon young hynde squire ! 
Sae ill as he 's used me. 

44 When the maids came frae the hay, 

The young men frae the corn, 
Ben it came that lady gay, 
Who thought lang for their return. 

45 ' Where hae ye been, my maidens a', 

Sae far awa frae me ? 
My foster-mother and lord's brother 
Thought to hae beguiled me. 

46 ( Had not she been my foster-mother, 

I suckd at her breast-bane, 

Even before my ain bower-door, 

She in a gleed shoud burn. 

47 ' The squire he thought to gain my love, 

He 's got but Lady Maisry ; 
He 's cutted her ring and her ring-finger, 
A love-token for to be. 



48 '1 11 tie my finger in the dark, 

Where nae ane shall me see ; 
I hope to loose it in the light, 
Amang gade companie.' 

49 When night was gane, and birds did sing, 

And day began to peep, 
The hynde squire walkd alang the shore, 
His brother for to meet 

50 ' Ye are welcome, welcome, landless lord, 

To my ha's and my bowers ; 
Ye are welcome hame, ye landless lord, 
To my lady white like flowers.' 

51 ' Te say I am a landless lord, 

Bat I think I am nane, 
Without ye show some love-token 
Awa frae her ye 've tane.' 

52 He drew the strings then o his purse, 

And they were a' bludie ; 
The ring but and the ring-finger 
Sae soon as he lat him see. 

53 * wae be to you, f ause hynde squire, 

Ane ill death mat ye dee ! 
It was too flair a love-token 
To take frae my ladie. 

54 * But ae asking of you, hynde squire, 

In your won bowers to dine ; ' 
' With a' my heart, my brother dear, 
Tho ye had aflked nine.' 

55 Then he is to his lady's father, 

And a sorrow man was he : 
* judge, judge, my father dear, 
This judgment pass for me. 

56 ' What is the thing that shoud be done 

Unto that gay lady 
Who woud gar her lord gae landless, 
And children bastards to be ? ' 

57 ( She shoud be brunt upon a hill, 

Or hangd upon a tree, 
That woud gar her lord gang landless, 
And children bastards be.' 

58 ' Your judgment is too rash, father ; 

Your ain daughter is she 
That this day has made me landless ; 
Your squire gaind it frae me. 

59 ' Yet nevertheless, my parents dear, 

Ae favour ye '11 grant me, 

And gang alang to my lost ha's, 

And take your dine wi me.' 

60 He threw the charters ower the table, 

And kissd the yates o tree ; 
Says, Fare ye well, my lady gay, 
Your face I '11 never see. 

61 Then his lady calld out to him, 

Come here, my lord, and dine ; 
There 's nae a smith in a' the land 
That can ae finger join. 

62 ' I tied my finger in the dark, 

Whan nae ane did me see ; 
But now I '11 loose it in the light, 
Amang gude companie. 

63 ' Even my niece, Lady Maisry, 

The same woman was she ; 
The gude red gowd shall be her hire, 
And likeways white monie 

64 * Five hundred pounds o pennies round 

Her tocher then shall be, 
Because she did my wills obey, 
Beguild the squire for me.' 

65 Then they did call this young hynde squire 

To come right speedilie, 
Likeways they calld young Lady Maisry, 
To pay her down her fee. 

66 Then they laid down to Lady Maisry 

The brand but and the ring ; 
It was to stick him wi the brand, 
Or wed him wi the ring. 

67 Thrice she minted to the brand, 

But she took up the ring ; 
And a' the ladies who heard o it 
Said she was a wise woman. 




A. 'Lady Daisy,' Aytoun'a Ballads of Scotland, II, 
173) 1859. 

B. 'Lady Dayisie/ from an old lady's collection for- 
merly in possession of Sir Walter Scott,* now belong- 
ing to Mr Macmath, Edinburgh. 

C. Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 12, 1828. 

D. 'Lady Diamond/ Buchan's MSS, n, 164; 'Lady 
Diamond, the King's Daughter/ Buchan's Ballads 
of the North of Scotland, II, 206; ( Ladye Diamond/ 
Dbcon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient 
Ballads, p. 71, Percy Society, voL xviL 

B. ' Robin, the Ritchie- Boy,' Joseph Robertson, " Ad- 
versaria," p. 66. 

DIAMOND (Daisy, Dysmal, Dysie), only 
daughter of a great king, is with child by 
a very bonny kitchen-boy. The base-born 
paramour is put to death, and, by the king's 
order, his heart is taken to the princess in 
a cup of gold. She washes it with the tears 
which run into the cup, A, B, 0, and dies of 
her grief. Her father has a sharp remorse, 
A, ; his daughter's shame looks pardonable, 
when he considers the beauty of the man he 
has slain, A. 

B is blended with * Willie o Winsbury/ No 
100; cf. B 4-9, and No 100, A 2-7, B 1-6, 
etc. In 4 Willie o Winsbury ', B, the princess's 
name is D yarn ill. A 12, B 11 of Lady Dia- 
mond ' also recall * Willie o Winsbury/ 

In O, D, the kitchen-boy is smothered be- 
tween two feather-beds. 

label was the princess's name in a copy 
obtained by Motherwell, but not preserved. 
Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 7; C. K. Sharpe's 
Correspondence, II, 328. 

The ballad is one of a large number of 
repetitions of Boccaccio's tale of Guiscardo 
and Ghismonda, Decamerone, IY, 1. This tale 
was translated in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, 
1566 (ed. Jacobs, I, 180), and became the 
foundation of various English poems and 
plays, f Very probably it was circulated in a 

See a letter from Scott to C. K. Sharpe, in Mr Al- 
lardyce'i edition of Sharpe's letters, n, 964. 

t See Dunlop's History of Fiction, ed. Wilson, II, 91 ; Ton 
der Hagen'0 Gesammtabenteuer, I, oxxn f. ; Clarence Sher- 

chap-book edition in Great Britain, as it was 

in Germany (Simrock, Volksbiicher, VI, 158). 

Prince Tancredi has an only daughter (cf . A, 

B, 0, 1), whose name is Ghismonda (Diamond, 

C, Dysmal, B, Dysie, D, Daisy, A). She has 
a secret amour with a young man of inferior 
condition (valetto, di nazione assai umile ; 
giovane di vilissima condizione, says Tancredi), 
sunk in the ballad to the rank of kitchen-boy. 
This young man, Guiscardo, is, however, dis- 
tinguished for manners and fine qualities ; in- 
deed, superior in these to all the nobles of the 
court. In the ballad he is a very bonny boy 
(preferred to dukes and earls, B, C). Guis- 
cardo is strangled (or suffocated) ; the bonny 
boy is smothered between two feather-beds in 
B 8, C 7. The bonny boy's heart TS cut ouo 
and sent to the king's daughter in a cup of 
gold, in the ballad ; she washes it wixii the 
tears that run from her eyes into the cup. 
Ghismonda, receiving Guiscardo's heart in a 
gold cup, sheds a torrent of tears over it, pours 
a decoction of poisonous herbs into the cup 
(ove il cuore era da molte delle sue lagrime 
lavato), and drinks all off, then lies down on 
her bed and awaits her death. Tancredi, re- 
penting too late of his cruelty, has the pair 
buried with honors in one tomb.J 

Italian. A. < n padre crudele,' Widter und 

wood, Die nen-englischen Bearbdtungen der Eraahlnng 
Boccaccio* von Ghumonda und Gniscardo, Berlin, 1892; 
Varnhagen in Literatnrblatt, December, 1892, p. 412 ff. 
t The too late repentance and the burial of the two lovers 



Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 72, No 98. 
A king has an only daughter, Germonia. She 
has twelve servants to wait upon her, and 
other twelve to take her to school, and she 
falls in love with the handsomest, Rizzardo. 
They talk together, and this is reported to 
the king by Rizzardo's fellow-servants. The 
king shuts Rizzardo up in a room, bandages 
his eyes, cuts his heart out, puts it in a gold 
basin, and carries it to his daughter. ' Take 
this basin/ he says ; * take this fine mess, 
Rizzardo's heart is in it.' Germonia re- 
proaches him for his cruelty ; he tells her, if 
he has done her an offence, to take a knife and 
do him another. She does not care to do this ; 
however, if he were abed, she would. In a 
variant, she goes out to a meadow, and 4 poi- 
sons herself with her own hands.' 

B. ' Flavia,' Sabatini, Saggio di Canti po- 
polari romani, in Rivista di Letteratura po- 
polare, Rome, 1877, p. 17 f., and separately, 
1878, p. 8 f. Flavia has thirteen servants, 
and becomes enamored of one of these, Ggis- 
monno. His fellows find out that the pair 
have been communing, and inform the king. 
4 Sagra cor6na ' orders them to take Ggismonno 
to prison, and put him to death. They seat 
him in a chair of gold, and dig out nis heart, 
lay the heart in a basin of gold, and carry it 
to Flavia, sitting at table, saying, Here is a 
mess for you. She retires to her chamber, 
lies down on her bed, and drinks a cup of 

O. * Risguardo belo e Rismonda bela,' Ber- 
noni, Tradizioui pop. veneziane, p. 89. A 
count has an only daughter, Rismonda. She 
has twelve servants, and falls in love with the 
handsomest, who waits at table, the hand- 
some Risguardo. She asks him to be her 
lover; he cannot, for if her father should 
come to know of such a thing he would put 
him to death in prison. The knowledge comes 
to the father, and Risguardo is put into prison. 
One of his fellows looks him up after a fort- 
night, and after a month cuts out his heart, 
and takes it to Rismonda ; 'here is a fine dish, 
the heart of Risguardo.' Rismonda, who is 

in one grftve occur, also, in Decameron, XT, 9, pretentlj to 
bo spoken of. 

sitting at table, goes to her chamber; her 
father comes to console her; she bids him 
leave her. If I have done you wrong, he says, 
take this sword and run it through me. She 
is not disposed to do this ; she will write three 
letters and die. 

All these come from the Decameron, rv, 1. 
The lover is sunk to a serving-man, as in the 
Scottish ballad. The names are fairly well 
preserved in A, 0; in B the lover gets his 
name from the princess, and she is provided 
with one from the general stock. 

Swedish. * Hertig Frojdenborg och Frb'ken 
Adelin,' broadside, 48 stanzas, Stockholm, 
1757 ; Afzelius, I, 95, No 19, ed. Bergstrom 
och Hoijer, I, 81, No 18, 47 sts ; Lagua, 
Nylandska Folkvisor, I. 80, No 8 a, 47 sts; 
Djurklou, Ur Nerikes Folkspr&k, p. 96, 22 
sts; Dybeck, Runa, 1869, p. 84, 87 sts, of 
which only 8 are given ; Lagus, as above, 
b, 2 sts, o, 1 st. ; Aminson, Bid rag, I, 1st 
heft, p. 81, No 6, 2d heft, p. 16, 1 st each ; 
imprinted fragments, noted by Olrik, Dan- 
marks gamle Folkeviser, V, II, 216 f. The 
broadside is certainly the source or basis of 
all the printed copies, and probably of an 
unpublished fragment of twenty-eight stanzas 
obtained by Eva Wigstroin in 1882 (Olrik) ; 
some trifling variations are attributable to 
editing or to tradition. 

Adelin is in the garden, making a rose 
chaplet for Frojdenborg, who, seeing her from 
his window, goes to her and expresses the wish 
that she were his love. Adelin begs him not 
to talk so; she fears that her father may 
overhear. False maid-servants tell the king 
that Frojdenborg is decoying his daughter; 
the king orders him to be put in chains and 
shut up in the dark tower. There he stays 
fifteen years. Adelin goes to the garden to 
make Frojdenborg a garland again. The 
king sees from his window what she is about, 
orders her into his presence (he has not cared 
to see her for fifteen years), and angrily de- 
mands what she has been doing in the garden. 
She says that she has been making a rose gar- 
land for Frojdenborg. * Not forgotten him 
yet ? ' * No ; nor should I, if I lived a hundred 
years.' 'Then I will put a stop to this love.' 



Frdjdenborg is taken oat of the tower ; bis 
hair and beard are gray, but he declares that 
the fifteen years have seemed to him only a 
few days. They bind Frdjdenborg to a tree, 
and kill him as boors slaughter cattle. They 
lay him on a board, and gut (slit) him as 
boors gut (slit) a fish. The false maids take 
his heart and dress the lady a dainty dish. 
She has a misgiving, and asks what she has 
eaten. They tell her it is her lover's heart ; 
then, she says, it shall be my last meaL She 
asks for drink : she will drink to Frdjdenborg, 
she will drink herself dead. Her heart breaks ; 
word is carried to her father ; God a mercy ! 
he cries, I have betrayed my only child. The 
two are buried in one grave, from which 
springs a linden ; the linden grows over the 
church ridge ; one leaf enfolds the other. 

Danish. ' Hertug Frydenborg,' in about 
forty copies from recent tradition and a broad- 
side of the eighteenth century, but not found 
in old manuscripts: Olrik, Danmarks gamle 
Folkeviser, V, n, 216, No 805, H-A, and 
Kristensen, XI, 117, No 46. Of these, B i, 
obtained in 1809, bad been printed by Nyerup 
og Rasmussen, Udvalg af danske Viser, II, 
288, No 71. Others are in Kristensen 's Skat- 
tegraveren, I, 83, No 113, III, 148, Nos 835- 
88, and in Kristensen's Jyske Folkeminder, 
II, 207, No 61 A-D (' Ridderens Hjaerte '), 
and X, 218, 885, 360, No 52 A-E, No 94 B. 

One half of these texts, as Olrik remarks, 
are of Swedish origin, and even derived from 
the Swedish broadside ; others have marks of 
their own, and one in particular, which indi- 
cates the ultimate source of the story in both 
the Swedish and the Danish ballad. This 
source appears to be the Decameron, IV, 1, 
as in the Scottish and Italian ballads. The 
points of resemblance are : A princess, an only 
daughter, has a lover ; her father disapproves, 
and throws the lover into prison (where he 
remains fifteen years in the ballad, only a day 
or two in the tale). The lover is taken from 

* There is a mixture of Decameron, XT, 1 and 9 (with 
arbitrary variations), in Palraerin of England (ch. 87, II, 328, 
of Sonthey's edition of the English translation). Artibel vis- 
ited the Princess Brandisia in a tower, asceiiding by a rope 
One night he was taken. He was shut up nil the princess was 

prison and put to death, and his heart is eat 
out (The heart is not sent to the princess 
in a golden vessel, as in the Decameron, IV, 
1, and the Scottish and Italian ballads, but is 
cooked, and given her to eat, and is eaten ; 
and she says, when informed that she has 
eaten her lover's heart, that it shall be her 
last food.) In most of the Scandinavian bal- 
lads the princess calls for wine (mead), and 
4 drinks herself to death.' But in C it is ex- 
pressly said that she drinks poisoned wine, in 
B a, o, k, poisonous wine, in D that she puts 
a grain of poison in the cruse. (In E 1 they 
mix the lover's blood in wine ; she takes two 
draughts, and her heart bursts.) 

A husband giving his wife her lover's heart 
to eat is a feature in an extensive series of 
poems and tales, sufficiently represented for 
present purposes by the ninth tale in the 
fourth day of the Decameron, and no further 
explanation is required of the admixture hi the 
Scandinavian ballad.* 

In Danish A a, b, h, o, B b, two lilies 
spring from the common grave of the lovers, 
and embrace or grow together. In B k, 1, F 
b, e, f, and Kristensen, XI, No 46, the lovers 
are buried apart (she south, he north, of kirk, 
etc.), a lily springs from each, and the two 
grow together. 

Low and High German, Dutch. A. 
4 Brennenberg,' 12 stanzas, Uhland, I, 158, 
No 75 A, Niederdeutsohes Liederbuch, No 
44, conjectured to be of the beginning of 
the seventeenth century. ' Der Bremberger,' 
Bohme, p. 87, No 23 B (omitting sts 8, 4) ; 
Simrock, Die deutschen Volkslieder, p. 14, 
No 5, Die geschichtlichen deutschen Sagen, 
p. 825, No 105 (omitting sts 1-4, and turned 
into High German). B. 'Einschoner Brem- 
berger,' 8 stanzas, flying-sheet, 8, Niirnberg, 
Valentin Newber, about 1550-70, Bohme, 
No 28 A ; Wunderhorn, ed. Erk, 1857, IV, 
41, modernized. O. ( Van Brandenborch,' 
6 stanzas, Antwerpener Liederbuch, 1644, ed. 

delivered of a child (cf the Scottish ballad). Then the 
father took Artibel's heart and sent it to Brandisia in a cup. 
She filled the cap with her tears, and sent the cop of tears 
to her father, reserving the heart, dressed herself in her 
bravest apparel, and cast herself headlong from the tower. 



Hoffmann, p. 120, No 81 ; Hoffmann's Nie- 
derlandisohe Volkslieder, 1856, p. 34, No 7 
(omitting st. 6) ; Uhland, No 75 B. D a. 
Grasliedlin, 1535, one at., Bohme, No 23 a ; 
Uhland, No 75 C. b. The same, heard on 
the Lower Rhine, 1850, Bohme, No 23 b. 

* Brunenborch,' Willems, No 53, p. 135, 
21 stanzas, purports to be a critical text, con- 
structed partly from copies communicated to 
the editor (" for the piece is to this day sung 
in Flanders "), and partly from C, A, D a, 
and Hoffmann, No 6.* It is not entitled to 

All the versions are meagre, and A seems to 
be corrupted and defective at the beginning.! 

A youth, B 2, has watched a winter-long 
night, brought thereto by a fair maid, A 1, 3, 
B 1, to whom he has devoted his heart and 
thoughts, and with whom he wishes to make 
off, A, B. Ill news comes to the maid, B 2, 
that her lover is a prisoner, and has been 
thrown into a tower. There Brennenberg 
(A, der Bremberger, B, Brandenborch, C, der 
Brandenburger, D a) lay seven years or more, 
till his head was white and his beard was gray. 
They laid him on a table and slit him like a 
fish,f cut out his heart, dressed it with pep- 
per, and gave it to the fairest, A, the dame, B, 
the dearest, C, to eat. ' What have I eaten 
that tasted so good ? ' * Brennenberg's heart,' 
A. ' If it is his heart, pour wine for me, and 
give me to drink.' She set the beaker to her 
mouth, and drank it to the bottom, B. The 
first drop she drank, her heart broke into a 
dozen bits, A, C. (Their love was pure, such 
as no one could forbid, A 11 ; the same im- 
plied in A 12, O 5.) 

The German-Dutch ballad, though printed 
two hundred years before any known copy 
of the Swedish-Danish, is much less explicit. 
The lady is certainly a maid in B, and she is 
a maid in A if the first stanza is accepted 
as belonging to the ballad. Then it should 
be her father who proceeds so cruelly against 
her. The wine-drinking, followed by speedy 
death, may come, as it almost certainly does 
in some of the Scandinavian ballads, from 
the story of Ghismonda ; and therefore the 
German-Dutch ballads, as they stand, may 
perhaps be treated as a blending of the first 
and the ninth tale of Boccaccio's fourth day. 
But there is a German meisterlied, printed, 
like B, C, D a, in the sixteenth century, which 
has close relation with these ballads, and 
much more of Boccaccio's ninth tale in it: 
* Von dem Brembergers end und tod,' von der 
Hagen's Minnesinger, IV, 281, Wunderhorn, 
1808, II, 229, epitomized in the Grimms' 
Deutsche Sagen, II, 211, No 500. The knight 
Bremberger has loved another man's wife. 
The husband cuts off his head, and gives his 
heart to the lady to eat. He asks her if she 
can tell what she has eaten. She would be 
glad to kno*w, it tasted so good. She is told 
that it is Bremberger's heart. She says she 
will take a drink upon it, and never eat or 
drink more. The lady hastens from table to 
her chamber, grieves over Bremberger's fate, 
protesting that they had never been too inti- 
mate, starves herself, and dies the eleventh 
day. The husband suffers great pangs for 
having ( betrayed ' her and her deserving 
servant, and sticks a knife into his heart. || 

The incident of a husband giving his wife 

* This is a Dutch ballad of Brennenberg without the ex- 
traction of the heart, MS. of the end of the fifteenth century. 
(8ts 1 , 2 resemble, A 3, 4.) A fair lady offers Bnmenburch 
a rose garland ; a knight observes this, goes to his master, 
and tells him, Brnnenbnrch has been sleeping with your wife. 
Bnmenburch is imprisoned in a tower, and after a time sent 
to the gallows. The lady rides to the gallows. She has 
seven bold brothers, who will avenge his death Brunen- 
bnroh affirms and reaffirms his innocence. The lady vows 
never to braid her hair, etc. (Cf. II, 156 f.) Frydenborg is 
hanged in Danish A d, n, B b, and his heart then taken 

t In A 3, 4, which (as also A 1 and B 1) are in the first 
person, a fair maid offers the singer a rose garland. This 

warrants no inference of community with the Scandinavian 
ballad. The passage probably does not belong in the ballad 
Compare the beginning of Hoffmann, No 6, and a song of 
John I of Brabant, Willems, p. 13, No 5. 

4. ' Recht so einem wildenschwin,' A 8, brings to mind 
' qnel cuor di cinghiare,' in Decameron, iv, 9, but, consider- 
ing the ' recht wo einen visch ' of A 7, may be judged an 
accidental correspondence. 

It is to be noted that the father reproaches himself for 
'betraying 'his only child in the Swedish ballad, and in 
Danish A 1, P a, c, d. 

|| A meisterlied, of about 1500 (Bohme), noted by Goe- 
deke, Grundriss, 139, No 7 c, has not been reprinted. 



her lover's heart to eat occurs in a considerable 
number of tales and poems in literature, and 
in all is obviously of the same source. 

Ysolt, in the romance of Tristan, twelfth 
century, sings a lai how Guirun was slain for 
love of a lady, and his heart given by the 
count to his wife to eat. (Michel, III, 39, w. 

Ramon de Gastel Rossillon (Raimons de 
Rosillon) cut off the head of Guillems de 
Cabestaing, lover of his wife, Seremonda 
(Margarita), took the heart from the body, 
' fetz lo raustir e far pebrada,' and gave it to 
his wife to eat. He then told her what she 
had been eating (showing her Cabestaing's 
head), and asked her if it was good. So good, 
she said, that she would never eat or drink 
more ; hearing which, her husband rushed at 
her with his sword, and she fled to a balcony, 
let herself fall (threw herself from a window), 
and was killed. (Chabaneau, Lea Biographies 
des Troubadours en langue provencale, pp. 
99-103, MSS of the thirteenth and the four- 
teenth century.) Nearly the same story, 
4 secondo che racoon tano i provenzali,' in the 
Decameron, rv, 9, of Messer Guiglielrao Ros- 
siglione and Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno. 
The lady says that she liked very much the 
dish which she had eaten, and the husband, 
No wonder that you should like when it was 
dead the thing which you liked best of all 
when it was living : what you have eaten was 
Guardastagno's heart. God forbid, replies 
the lady, that I should swallow anything else 
after so noble a repast ; then lets herself drop 
from a high window. 

In Konrad von Wurzburg, 4 Das Herz,' 
Das Heranare,' 1260-70, five or six hun- 
dred verses, a knight and a lady are inflamed 
with a mutual passion (tugendhafter mann, 
reines weib). The lady's husband conceives 
that he may break this up by taking her to 
the Holy Land. In that case, the knight pro- 
poses to follow ; but the lady prevails upon 
him to go before her husband shall take this 
step, with the object of lulling his jealousy 
and stopping the world's talk. The knight 
goes, and dies of the separation. As his end 
was approaching, he had ordered his attendant 

to take out his heart, embalm it, enclose it in 
a gold box, and carry it to the lady. The 
husband lights upon the emissary, takes away 
the box, directs his cook to make a choice 
dish of the heart, and has this set before his 
wife for her exclusive enjoyment. He asks 
her how she finds it, and she declares that she 
has never eaten anything so delicious. She 
is then told that she has eaten the knight's 
heart, sent her by him as a token. God 
defend, she exclaims, that any ordinary food 
should pass my mouth after so precious victual, 
and thereupon dies (von der Hagen's Ge- 
sammtabenteuer, I, 225). The same story is 
introduced as an u example" in a sermon- 
book : ' Quidam miles tutpiter adamavit ux- 
orem alter! us militia. 1 * The lady kills her- 

Again, in a romance of eight thousand 
verses, of the Ch&telain de Couci and la 
Dame de Faiel (of the end of the thirteenth 
or the beginning of the fourteenth century), 
with the difference that the ch&telain takes 
the cross, is wounded with a poisoned arrow, 
and dies on his way to France. (Jakemon 
Sakesep, Roman du Ch&telain de Gouci, etc., 
ed. Crapelet, 1829.) From this romance was 
derived The Knight of Curtesy and the Fair 
Lady of Faguell (in which the lady is chaste 
to her lord as is the turtle upon the tree), five 
hundred verses, Ritson's Metrical Romancees, 
III, 193, from an edition by William Copland, 
44 before 1568;" also a chap-book, curiously 
adapted to its time, ' The Constant but Un- 
happy Lovers,' London, 1707 (cited by Clous- 
ton, Popular Tales and Fictions, II, 191). 

Descending to tradition of the present time, 
we find in the adventures of Raja Rasalu, as 
told in verse and prose in the north of India, 
surprising agreements with Boccaccio's tale : 
a. Temple's Legends of the Panj&b, I, 64 f., 
1883. b. The same, III, 240 f., 1886. o. 
Swynnerton in the Folk-Lore Journal, I, 
143 ff., 1883, and in The Adventures of Raj4 
Raaalu, 1884, pp. 130-85. d. Clouston, Popu- 
lar Tales and Fictions, II, 192, from a book 

* SermonM Partti, No 184, ninth Sunday after Trinity : 
cited by M. Gaiton Paris, Hfetoire Litteraire de la France, 
XXVITI, 382 f . 


privately printed, 1851. Raja Rasalu kills 
his wife's lover, tears out his heart, a, heart 
and liver, d, takes of his flesh, b, o, roasts and 
gives to his wife to eat. She finds the meat 
is very good, a, no venison was ever so dainty, 
o. The king retorts, You enjoyed him when 
he was living ; why should you not relish his 
flesh now that he is dead ? and shows her the 
body of his rival. She leaps from the palace 
wall and is killed (o only). (Raja Rasalu is 
assigned to our second century.) 

A Danish ballad in Syv's collection, 1695, 
has one half of the story. A king has a man 
for whom his wife has a fancy chopped up 
and cooked and served to the queen. She 
does not eat. (* Livsvandet,' Grundtvig, II, 
604, No 94 A, Prior, I, 391.) 

Very like the Indian and the Provencal 
sage, but with change of the parts of husband 
and wife, is what Mme d'Aulnoy relates as 
having been enacted in the Astorga family, 
in Spain, in the seventeenth century. The 
Marchioness of Astorga kills a beautiful girl 
of whom her husband is enamored, tears out 
her heart, and gives it to her husband in a 
stew. She asks him if the dish was to his 
taste, and he says, Yes. No wonder, says the 
wife, for it was the heart of the mistress whom 
you loved so much ; and then produces the 
gory head. (M6moires de la Cour d'Espagne, 
La Haye, 1691, 1, 108.) 

Going back to the twelfth century, we come, 
even at that early date, upon one of those ex- 

* The older literature is noted, with his ngual fulness, by 
von der Hagen, Gesammtabenteuer, 1, cxvi-xxi. See, also, 
Dunlop's History of Fiction, ed Wilson, II, 95 f M. Gas- 
ton Paris has critically reviewed the whole matter, with 
an account of modern French imitations of the romance of 
the Chatelain de Couci, in Histoire Litte'raire de la France, 
XXVHI, 352-90. See, also, his article in Romania, XII, 
359 ff 

t See Percy's Reliques, 1765, m, 154, and Ebsworth, 
Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 650. It is in many of the collec- 
tions of black-letter broadsides besides the Roxburghe, as 
Ftpys, Wood, Crawford, etc. Though perhaps absolutely 
the silliest ballad that ever was made, and very far from 

travagances, not to say travesties, which are 
apt to follow successful strokes of invention. 
Ignaure loves and is loved by twelve dames. 
The husbands serve his heart to their twelve 
wives, who, when they are apprised of what 
has passed, duly vow that they will never eat 
again after the precious mess which they 
have enjoyed. (Lai d'Ignaur&s, ed. Mon- 
merqu et Michel.) There are relics of a 
similar story in Provencal and in German, 
and a burlesque tale to the same effect was 
popular in Italy : Le Cento Novelle Antiche, 
of about 1300, Biagi, Le Novelle Antiche, 
1880, p. 38, No 29.* 

A kitchen-boy plays a part of some conse- 
quence in several other ballads. A kitchen- 
boy is the hero of No 252, IV, 400, a very 
poor ballad, to be sure. There is a bad tell- 
tale of a kitchen-boy in 4 Lady Maisry,' A, 
No 65, II, 114, and there is a high-minded 
kitchen-boy in 'The Lady Isabella's Tra- 
gedy.' f 'A ballett, The Kitchen - boy es 
Songe* (whatever this may be), is entered 
as licensed to John Aide in the Stationers' 
Registers, 1570-71, Arber, I, 438. In about 
half of the versions of ' Der grausame Bru- 
der' (see II, 101 f.) the king of England pre- 
sents himself as a kuchenjuug to the brother 
of a lady whom he asks in marriage after a 
clandestine intimacy. 

A is translated by Knortz, Schottische Bal- 
lade n, p. 22, No 9. 

silly sooth, the broadside was traditionally propagated in 
Scotland without so much change as is usual in such cases 
' There livd a knight in Jesuit mont.' Scotch Ballads, Ma- 
terials for Border Minstrelsy, No 22 e, Abbotsford, in the 
handwriting of William Laidlaw, derived from Jean Scott ; 
' The Knight in Jesnite/ Campbell MSS, II, 63 ; ' There was 
a knight in Jessamay/ Motherwell's MS , p 399, from Agnes 
Laird, of Kilbarchau. Percy's ballad is translated by 
Bodmer, I, 167, and by Doring, p. 91. The tragedy is said 
to be localized at Radcliffe, Lancashire Harland, Ballad* 
and Songs of Lancashire, ed. 1879, p. 46, Roby's Tradi- 
tions of Lancashire, 1879,1, 107, both citing Dr Whitaker'i 
Hirtory of Whalley. 



Aytonn's Balladf of Scotland, n, 173, 1859, from the rec- 
ollection of a lady residing at Kirkaldj. 

1 THERE was a king, and a very great king, 

And a king of meikle fame ; 
He had not a child in the world hat ane, 
Lady Daisy was her name. 

2 He had a very bonnie kitchen-boy, 

And William was his name ; 
He never lay out o Lady Daisy's bower, 
Till he brought her body to shame. 

8 When eon-birds sung, and een-bells rung, 

And a' men were boune to rest, 
Hie king went on to Lady Daisy's bower, 
Just like a wandering ghaist. 

4 He has drawn the curtains round and round, 

And there he has sat him down ; 
' To whom is this, Lady Daisy,' he says, 
' That now you gae so round ? 

5 ' Is it to a laird ? or is it to a lord ? 

Or a baron of high degree ? 
Or is it William, my bonnie kitchen-boy ? 
Tell now the truth to me.' 

6 * It's no to a laird, and it's no to a lord, 

Nor a baron of high degree ; 
But it 's to William, your bonnie kitchen-boy : 
What cause hae I to lee ? ' 

7 ' O where is all my merry, merry men. 

That I pay meat and fee, 
That they will not take out ibis kitchen-boy, 
And kill him presentlie ? ' 

8 They hae taen out this bonnie kitchen-boy, 

And killd hi*n on the plain ; 
His hair was like the threads o gold, 

His een like crystal stane ; 
His hair was like the threads o gold, 

His teeth like ivory bane. 

9 They hae taen out this bonnie boy's heart, 

Put it in a cup o gold ; 
'Take that to Lady Daisy,' he said, 

( For she 's impudent and bold ; ' 
And she washd it with the tears that ran from 
her eye 

Into the cup of gold. 

10 <Now fare ye weel, my father the king! 

You hae taen my earthly joy ; 
Since he 's died for me, I '11 die for him, 
My bonnie kitchen-boy/ 

11 * O where is all my merry, merry men, 

That I pay meat and wage, 
That they could not withold my cruel hand, 
When I was mad with rage ? 

12 < I think nae wonder, Lady Daisy/ he said, 

* That he brought your body to shame ; 
For there never was man of woman born 
Sae fair as Him that is slain.' 

From "The Old Lady's Collection/' formerly in the 
possession of Sir Walter Scott, No 41. 

1 THEB was a king, an a worthy king, 

[An a king] of birth an fame ; 
He had an only dear daughter, 
An Dayesie was her name. 

2 Ther was a boy about the house, 

Bold Roben was his name ; 
He would not stay out of Dayese's hour, 
Till he brought her body [to] shame. 

8 When bells was rung, . . . 
An a' man bon to rest, 

The king went up to Lady Dayese's hour, 
He was an unwelcom gast 

4 <O Lady Dayesg, dear,d[ea]r Dayisie, 

What gars ye gae sae round ? 
We yer tua sides high an yer bellie bige, 
Fra yer face the couller is gane.' 

5 ' have ye* loved ? or have ye lang-sought ? 

Or die ye goo we barn ? ' 
' It 's all for you, fair father, 
That ye stayed so long in Spain.' 

6 ' It 's aff ye take yer berry-bronn goon, 

An ye lay it on a ston, 



An I will tell you in a very ihort time 
If ye loued any man or no[n].' 

7 It 'e aff she has tane her beny-broon goon, 

An laid it on a ston ; 

We her tua sides high, her belley turned bigg, 
Fra her face the couller was gane. 

8 '0 is it to lord ? or is to lard ? 

Or till a man of mean ? 
Or is it to Bold Roben, the kittchen-boy? 
Nou, Dayisie, dinne lea[n].' 

9 'It'snotoleard, nor [to] lord, 

Nor to a man of mean, 
Bat it 's to Bold Robien, oar kittchen-boy ; 
Fatt neadfl me for to lea[n] ? ' 


It 's the morn bef or I eat or drink 
His heart-blade I sail see.' 

11 He 's tean Bold Robien by the hand 
Lead him across the green ; 

His hear was leak the very threads of good, 
His face shone leak the moon. 

12 He 's tane out this bonny boy's hear[t] 

Into a cape of gold, 
Had it to Lady Dayese's boor, 
Says, No[u], Dayestf, behold I 

13 ' welcom to me my heart's delight ! 

Nou welcom to me my joy I 
Te have dayed for me, an 1 11 day for ye, 
Tho ye be bat the kittchen-boy/ 

14 She has taen oat the coup of gold, 

Lead itbeloa her head, 
An she wish it we the tears ran doon fra her 

An or midnight she was dead* 

15 She has tean oat the coup of gold, 

Laid it belou her hear, 
An she wish it we the tears ran don fra her 

An alass 1 spak never mare. 

Sharpe'i Ballad Book, No 4, p. 12, as aung by Mary 
Johnston, dairy maid at Hoddam Castle. 

1 THEBE was a king, and a glorious king, 

And a king of mickle fame, 

And he had daughters only one, 

Lady Dysmal was her name. 

2 He had a boy, and a kitchen-boy, 

A boy of mickle scorn, 

And she lovd him lang, and she loved him aye, 
Till the grass oergrew the corn. 

3 When twenty weeks were gone and past, 

she began to greet ! 
Her petticoat grew short before, 
And her stays they wadna meet 

4 It fell upon a winter's night 

The king could get nae rest ; 
He cam unto his daughter dear, 
Just like a wandring ghaist 

5 He cam into her bed-chalmer, 

And drew the curtains round : 
' What aileth thee, my daughter dear? 
I fear you 've gotten wrong/ 

6 ' if I have, despise me not, 

For he is all my joy ; 
I will forsake baith dukes and earls, 
And marry your kitchen-boy.' 

7 ( Go call to me my merry men all, 

By thirty and by three ; 
Go call to me my kitchen-boy, 
We '11 murder him secretlie.' 

8 There was nae din that could be heard, 

And neer a word was said, 
Till they got him baith fast and sure 
Between twa feather-beds. 

9 'Go cut the heart out of his breast, 

And put it in a cup of gold, 
And present it to his Dysmal dear, 
For she is baith stout and bold.' 


10 They Ve cut the heart out of his breast, 

And put it in a cup of gold, 
And presented it to his Dysmal dear, 
Who was baith stout and bold. 

11 ' come to me, my hinney, my heart, 

come to me, my joy I 
O come to me, my hinney, my heart 
My father's kitchen-boy ! ' 

12 She 's taen the cup out of their hands, 

And set it at her bed-head ; 

She waahd it wi the tears that fell from her 

And next morning she was dead. 

13 ' O where were ye, my merry men alt 

Whom I paid meat and wage, 
Ye didna hold my cruel hand 
When I was in my rage ? 

14 ' For gone is a* my heart's delight. 

And gone is a' my joy ; 
For my dear Dysmal she is dead, 
And so is my kitchen-boy/ 


Buchan's MSS, II, 164. 

1 THERE was a king, and a curious king, 

And a king of royal fame, 
He had ae daughter, he had never mair, 
Lady Diamond was her name. 

2 She 's f a'en into shame, and lost her good name, 

And wrought her parents 'noy ; 
And a' for her layen her love so low, 
On her father's kitchen-boy. 

3 One night as she lay on her bed, 

Just thinking to get rest, 
Up it came her old father, 
Just like a wandering ghaist. 

4 ' Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond,' he says, 

1 Rise up, put on your gown ; 
Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond/ he says, 
* For I fear ye go too roun.' 

5 ' Too roun I go, ye blame me no, 

Ye cause me not to shame ; 
For better love I that bonny boy 
Than all your well-bred men.' 

6 The king 's oalld up his wall-wight men, 

That he paid meat and fee : 
* Bring here to me that bonny boy, 
And we 11 smore him right quietlie.' 

7 Up hae they taken that bonny boy, 

Put him between twa feather-beds ; 
Naething was dane, naething was said, 
Till that bonny boy was dead. 

8 The king 's taen out a broad, broad sword, 

And streakd it on a strow, 
And thro and thro that bonny boy's heart 
He 's gart cauld iron go. 

9 Out he has taen his poor bloody heart, 

Set it on a tasse of gold, 
And set it before Lady Diamond's face, 
Said, Fair lady, behold ! 

10 Up she has taen this poor bloody heart, 

And holden it in her hand : 
' Better loved I that bonny, bonny boy 
Than all my father's land.' 

11 Up she has taen his poor bloody heart 

And laid it at her head ; 
The tears away frae her eyes did fly, 
And ere midnight she was dead. 


Joseph Robertson, " Adversaria," p. 66 ; noted down from 
* female servant, July 15, 1829. 

1 IT was a king, and a verra greit king, 
An a king o muckle fame, 

An he had a luvelie dauchter fair, 
An Dysie was her name. 

2 She fell- in love wi the kitchie-boy, 
An a verra bonnie boy was he, 



An word has gane till her father dear, 
An an angry man was he. 

8 'Is it the laird? or is it the lord ? 

Or a man o high degree ? 
Or 10 it to Robin, the kitchie-bojr ? 
O Dysie mak nae lee.' 

4 <It 's nae the laird, nor IB it the lord, 

Nor a man o high degree, 
Bat it 'B to Robin, the kitchie-boy ; 
What occasion hae I to lee ? ' 

6 ^If it be to Robin, the kitchie-boy, 

AM I trust weel it be, 
The morn, afore ye eat meal or drink, 
Ye Tl Bee him hanged hie/ 

6 They have taen Robin out, 

His hair was like threads o gold ; 
That verra day afore it was night, 
Death made young Dysie cold. 

Written without division into stanzas or verse*. 
3* to bed. 
8*. didde lea. 

"Mary Johnston, oar dairymaid at Hoddam 
Castle, used to sing this. It had a very 
pretty air, and some more verses which I 

have now forgot." Sharped Ballad-Book, 
1880, p. 128. 
D. A little scotticized by Buchan in printing, and 

still more by Dixon. 

9*. tasse is tarse in my transcript; probably 



The Earl of Mar's Daughter/ Buchan 's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 49; Motherwell'a M8. p. 566. 

THE Earl of Mar's daughter spies a dove 
on a tower, and promises him a golden cage 
if he will come to her. The dove lights on 
her head, and she takes him into her bower. 
When night comes, she sees a youth standing 
by her side. The youth explains that his 
mother, a queen versed in magic, had trans- 
formed him into a dove that he might charm 
maids. He is a dove by day, a man at night, 
and will live and die with her. In the course 
of seven years seven sons are born, all of 
whom are successively committed to the care 
of the queen their grandmother. After the 
twenty-third year a lord comes to court the 
lady. She refuses him : she will live alone 
with her bird. Her father swears that he will 
kill this bird, and Gow-me-doo prudently takes 
refuge with his mother, who welcomes home 

her ( young son Florentine/ and calls for 
dancers and minstrels. Gow-me-doo Floren- 
tine will have none of that ; the situation is too 
serious. The morrow the mother of his seven 
sons is to be wedded ; instead of merry-mak- 
ing, he desires to have twenty stout men 
turned into storks, his seven sons into swans, 
and himself into a goshawk. This feat is 
beyond his mother's (quite limited) magic, 
but it is done by an old woman who has more 
skill. The birds fly to Earl Mar's castle, 
where the wedding is going on. The storks 
seize some of the noble guests, the swans bind 
the bride's best man to a tree, and in a twin- 
kling the bride and her maidens are carried 
off by the birds. The Earl of Mar reconciles 
himself with his daughter. 
There is a Scandinavian ballad which 



Grundtvig has treated as identical with this, 
bat the two have little in common beyond the 
assumption of the bird-shape by the lover. 
They are, perhaps, on a par for barrenness 
and folly, but the former may claim some 
age and vogue, the Scottish ballad neither. 

Danish. ' Ridderen i Fugleham,' Grundt- 
vig, II, 226, No 68, A-C (C is translated by 
Prior, III, 206); 'Herr Jon som Fugl,' 
Kristensen, 1, 161, No 59, X, 28, No 11, A, 
B. In Grundtvig's A (MS. of the sixteenth 
century), the son of the king of England 
wooes a maid, sending her rich presents. Her 
mother says he shall never have her daughter, 
and this message his envoys take back to him. 
He is angry, and has a bird's coat forged for 
him out of nine gold rings (but his behavior 
thereafter is altogether birdlike). He sits on 
the ridgepole of the maid's bower and sings. 
The maid exclaims, Christ grant thou wert 
mine ! thou shouldst drink naught but wine, 
and sleep in my arms. I would send thee to 
England, as a gift to my love. She sits down 
on the ground ; the bird flies into her bosom. 
She takes the bird into her bower ; he throws 
off his bird-coat, and is recognized. The maid 
begs him to do her no shame. ' Not if you 
wiU go to England with me,' he answers, 
takes her up, and wings his way thither. 
There he marries her, and gives her a crown 
and a queen's name. 

In Grundtvig B, the bird is a falcon. The 
maid will have no man that cannot fly. Mas- 
ter Hillebrand, son of the king of England, 
learns this fact, and has a bird's coat made 
for him, enters the room where man had never 
been before, sleeps under white linen, and in 
the morning is a knight so braw. (Here the 
story ends.) 

In O, the maid will have no man that can- 
not fly, and Master Hillebrand orders a bird's 
coat to be made for him (what could be more 
mechanical I), flies into the maid's bower, and 
passes the night on the pole on which she 
hangs her clothes. In the morning he begins 
to sing, flies to the bed, and plays with the 
maid's hair. If you could shed your feathers, 
says the maid, I would have no other man. 
Keep your word, says the bird ; give me your 

hand, and take my claw. She passes her word ; 
he throws off his feathers, and stands before 
her a handsome man. By day, says the maid, 
he is to fly with the birds, by night to sleep in 
her bed. He perches so long on the clothes- 
pole that Ingerlille has a girl and a boy. 
When her father asks who is their father, she 
tells him the positive truth; she found them 
in a wood. When the bird comes back at 
night, she says that he must speak to her 
father; further concealment is impossible. 
Master Hillebrand asks the father to give him 
his daughter. The father is surprised that he 
should want a maid that has been beguiled; 
but if he will marry her she shall have a large 
dowry. The knight wants nothing but her. 

Kristensen's copies do not differ materially. 
11 A in his tenth volume (a very brief ballad) 
drops or lacks the manufacture of the bird- 
coat Grundtvig's D-Gt drop the bird quite. 

The ballad occurs in Swedish, but in the 
form of a mere abstract; in Arwidsson, IE, 
188, No 112, MS. of the sixteenth century. A 
maid will have no man but one that can fly. 
A swain has wings made from five gold rings; 
he flies over the rose-wood, over the sea, sits 
on a lily-spray and sings, flies till he sleeps in 
the maid's bosom. 

A Faroe copy is noted by Grundtvig as in 
the possession of Hammershaimb, resembling 
his B, but about twice as long. 

The lover in bird-shape is a very familiar 
trait in fiction, particularly in popular tales. 

In Marie de France's Lai d'Yonec, a lover 
comes in at his mistress's window in the form 
of a hawk ; in * Der Jungherr and der treue 
Heinric V von der Hagen, Gesammtabenteuer, 
No 64, III, 197, MS. of 1444, as a bird (by 
virtue of a stone of which he has possessed 
himself).* In Hahn, No 102, II, 180 (Al- 
banian), a dove flies in at a princess's window, 
and is changed to man's shape by dipping in a 
dish of milk; Hahn, No 7, 1, 97=Pio, No 5, 
dove (through a hole in the ceiling, dips in a 
basin of water); AcXrtbv rfc Zoropunp K<U JfooAoyt- 
rfc *EUa$o9, I, 887, golden eagle 

* The ' Vogelrittar ' mentioned bj Prior, m, 107, fa thto 
smme story. 8* Hone, Ueberricht der ntalerlindiichen 
Volkilitantnr, p. 90, No 59. 



(through a window, in rose water) ; Sohneller, 
No 21, p. 49, dove (dips in a basin of water) ; 
Ooelho, Contos pdp. portuguezes, No 27, p. 65, 
bird (dips in a basin of water) ; Braga, Contos 
tradioion&es, No 31, I, 68, bird (dips in a 
basin of water) ; Pitrd, Fiabe, etc., No 18, 1, 
163, green bird (pan of milk, then pan of 
water) ; Bernoni, Fiabe, No 17, p. 87 (milk 
and water, milk, rose-water) ; Visentini, No 
17, p. 95, dove; Gonzenbach, No 27, 1, 167, 
green bird (through a hole in the wall); 
Nicoloviufl, p. 34, Asbjernsen, Norske Folke- 

eventyr, Ny Samling, 1871, No 10, p. 86= 
Juletraet, 1851, p. 52, falcon ; Grundtvig, 
Danske Folkeseventyr, No 14, p. 167, Madsen, 
Folkeminder, p. 19 ('The Green Knight 9 )) 
bird; Berntsen, Folke-JEventyr, No 13, II, 86, 
bird; Comtesse d'Aulnoy, 'L'Oiseau bleu,' 
Oabinet des Fe*es, II, 67, king turned into 
bird for seven years.* 

Translated by Gerhard, p. 44; Knortz, 
Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 207, 
No 62. 

1 IT was intill a pleasant time, 

Upon a simmer's day, 
The noble Earl of Mar's daughter 
Went forth to sport and play. 

2 As thus she did amuse hersell, 

Below a green aik tree, 
There she saw a sprightly doo 
Set on a tower sae hie. 

3 ' Cow-me-doo, my love sae true, 

If ye '11 come down to me, 
Ye 'se hae a cage o guid red gowd 
Instead o simple tree : 

4 ' I '11 put gowd lungers roun your cage, 

And siller roun your wa ; 
I 'U gar ye shine as fair a bird 
As ony o them a'.' 

6 But she hadnae these words well spoke, 

Nor yet these words well said, 
Till Cow-me-doo flew frae the tower 
And lighted on her head. 

6 Then she has brought this pretty bird 

Hame to her bowers and ha, 
And made him shine as fair a bird 
As ony o them a'. 

7 When day was gane, and night was come, 

About the evening tide, 
This lady spied a sprightly youth 
Stand straight up by her side. 

8 'From whence came ye, young man?' she 

* That does surprise me sair ; 

My door was bolted right secure, 
What way hae ye come here ? ' 

9 ' O had your tongue, ye lady fair, 

Lat a* your folly be ; 
Mind ye not on your turtle-doo 
Last day ye brought wi thee ? ' 

10 ' O tell me mair, young man/ she said, 

' This does surprise me now ; 
What country hae ye come frae ? 
What pedigree are you ? ' 

11 * My mither lives on foreign isles, 

She has nae mair but me ; 
She is a queen o wealth and state, 
And birth and high degree. 

12 * Likewise well skilld in magic spells, 

As ye may plainly see, 
And she transf ormd me to yon shape, 
To charm such maids as thee. 

13 ' I am a doo the live-lang day, 

A sprightly youth at night ; 
This aye gars me appear mair fair 
In a fair maiden's sight. 

14 ' And it was but this verra day 

That I came ower the sea ; 
Your lovely face did me enchant ; 
1 11 live and dee wi thee. 1 

16 ' Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true, 
Nae mair frae me ye 'se gae ; ' 

* Moit of the above are cited by R. Kohler, notes in 
Warnke'0 ed. of Marie's Late, p. LXXX VIII f . For the 
dipping in water, etc , Me Tarn Lin, I, 338. 



' That 's never my intent) my lave, 
As ye said, it ahull be sae.' 

16 ' Cow-me-doo, my lave sae true, 

It 's time to gae to bed ; ' 
' Wi a' my heart, my dear marrow, 
It 's be as ye hae said.' 

17 Then he has staid in bower wi her 

For sax lang year* and ane, 
Till sax young sons to him she bare, 
And the seventh she 's brought hame. 

18 But aye as ever a child was born 

He carried them away, 
And brought them to his mither's care, 
As fast as he coud fly. 

19 Thus he has staid in bower wi her 

For twenty years and three ; 
There came a lord o high renown 
To court this fair ladie. 

20 But still his proffer she refused, 

And a' his presents too ; 
Says, I 'm content to live alane 
Wi my bird, Cow-me-doo. 

21 Her father sware a solemn oath 

Amang the nobles all, 
' The morn, or ere I eat or drink, 
This bird I will gar kill.' 

22 The bird was sitting in his cage, 

And heard what they did say ; 
And when he found they were dismist, 
Says, Wae 's me for this day ! 

23 ' Before that I do langer stay, 

And thus to be forlorn, 
1 11 gang unto my mither's bower, 
Where I was bred and born.' 

24 Then Cow-me-doo took flight and flew 

Beyond the raging sea, 
And lighted near his mither's castle, 
On a tower o gowd sae hie. 

25 As his mither was wauking out, 

To see what she coud see, 
And there she saw her little son. 

Set on the tower sae hie. 
VOL. v. 6 

26 'Get dancers here to dance/ she said, 

* And minstrells for to play ; 
For here 's my young son, Florentine, 
Come here wi me to stay.' 

27 ( Get nae dancers to dance, mither, 

Nor minstrells for to play, 
For the mither o my seven sons, 
The morn 's her wedding-day/ 

28 < O tell me, tell me, Florentine, 

Tell me, and tell me true, 
Tell me this day without a flaw, 
What I will do for you.' 

29 ' Instead of dancers to dance, mither, 

Or minstrells for to play, 
Turn four-and-twenty wall-wight men 
Like storks in feathers gray ; 

30 ' My seven sons in seven swans, 

Aboon their heads to flee ; 
And I mysell a gay gos-hawk, 
A bird o high degree.' 

31 Then sichin said the queen hereell, 

4 That thing 's too high for me ; ' 
But she applied to an auld woman, 
\Vho had mair skill than she. 

32 Instead o dancers to dance a dance, 

Or minstrells for to play, 
Four-and-twenty wall-wight men 
Turnd birds o feathers gray ; 

33 Her seven sons in seven swans, 

Aboon their heads to flee ; 
And he himsell a gay gos-hawk, 
A bird o high degree. 

34 This flock o birds took flight and flew 

Beyond the raging sea, 
And landed near the Earl Mar's castle, 
Took shelter in every tree. 

35 They were a flock o pretty birds, 

Bight comely to be seen ; 
The people viewd them wi surprise, 
As they dancd on the green. 

36 These birds ascended frae the tree 

And lighted on the ha, 



And at the last wi force did flee 
Amang the nobles a'. 

37 The storks there seized some o the men, 

They coud neither fight nor flee ; 
The swans they bound the bride's best man 
Below a green aik tree. 

88 They lighted next on maidens fair, 

Then on the bride's own head, 
And wi the twinkling o an ee 
The bride and them were fled. 

39 There 's ancient men at weddings been 
For sixty years or more, 

But sic a carious wedding-day 
They never saw before. 

40 For naething coud the companie do, 

Nor naething coud they say 
But they saw a flock o pretty birds 
That took their bride away. 

41 When that Earl Mar he came to know 

Where his dochter did stay, 
He signd a bond o unity, 
And visits now they pay. 



A. 'Lord of Learne,' Percy MS., p. 73; Hales and 
Furnivall, I, 180. 

B. 'A pretty ballad of the Lord of Lorn and the Fals 

Steward.' a. Wood, 401, fol. 95 b. b. Roxburghe, 
I, 222, Roxburghe Ballads, ed. Chappell, II, 55. 
0. Pepys, I, 494, No 254. 

ALSO in the Roxburghe collection, III, 534, 
without printer's name ; Ewing, Nos 264, 
265; Crawford, No 716. All the broadsides 
are of the second half of the seventeenth 

' The Lord of Lome and the false Steward ' 
was entered, with two other ballads, to Mas- 
ter Walley, 6 October, 1580 ; 4 Lord of Lome' 
to Master Pavier and others (among 128 
pieces), 14 December, 1624. Arber, II, 379 ; 
IV, 131.* 

A. The young Lord of Lorn, when put to 
school, learns more in one day than his mates 
learn in three. He returns home earlier than 
expected, and delights his father with 

* Edward Guilpin, in his Skialethia, or A Shadow of 
Troth, 1598, has this couplet 

Tet like th> olde ballad of the Lord of Lome, 
Whose last line in King Harm's days was borne. 
Chappell, Popular Music, p. 228 

It is possible that Guilpin meant that the last line (stanza 7 ) 

the information that he can read any book in 
Scotland. His father says he must now go to 
France to learn the tongues. His mother is 
anxious that he should have a proper guardian 
if he goes, and the ( child ' proposes the stew- 
ard, who has impressed him as a man of fidel- 
ity. The Lady of Lorn makes the steward 
a handsome present, and conjures him to be 
true to her son. If I am not, he answers, may 
Christ not be true to me. The young lord 
sails for France, very richly appointed. Once 
beyond the water, the steward will give the 
child neither penny to spend nor meat and 
drink. The child is forced to lie down at 
some piece of water to quench his thirst ; the 

showed the ballad to be of Henry VHI's time , but he may 
have meant exactly what he says, that the last line was of 
Henry VIII's time. We do not know what the last line of 
the copy intended by Guilpin was, and all we learn from the 
couplet is that ' The Lord of Lorn ' was called an old ballad 
before the end of the sixteenth century. 



steward pushes him in, meaning to drown 
him. The child offers everything for his life ; 
the steward pulls him out, makes him put off 
all his fine clothes and don a suit of leather, 
and sends him to shift for himself, under the 
name of Poor Disaware. A shepherd takes 
him in, and he tends sheep on a lonely lea. 

The steward sells the child's clothes, buys 
himself a suit fit for a lord, and goes a-woo- 
ing to the Duke of France's daughter, calling 
himself the Lord of Lorn ; the duke favors 
the suit, and the lady is content. The day 
after their betrothal, the lady, while riding 
out, sees the child tending his sheep, and 
hears him mourning. She sends a maid to 
bring him to her, and asks him questions, 
which he answers, not without tears. He was 
born in Scotland, his name is Poor Disaware ; 
he knows the Lord of Lorn, a worthy lord in 
his own country. The lady invites him to 
leave his sheep, and take service with her as 
chamberlain; the child is willing, but her 
father objects that the lord who has come 
a-wooing may not like that arrangement. The 
steward comes upon the scene, and is angry to 
find the child in such company. When the 
child gives his name as Poor Disaware, the 
steward denounces him as a thief who had 
robbed his own father ; but the duke speaks 
kindly to the boy, and makes him his stable- 
groom. One day, when he is watering a geld- 
ing, the horse flings up his head and hits the 
child above the eye. The child breaks out, 
Woe worth thee, gelding ! thou hast stricken 
the Lord of Lorn. I was born a lord and 
shall be an earl ; my father sent me over the 
sea, and the false steward has beguiled me. 
The lady happens to be walking in her gar- 
den, and hears something of this; she bids 
the child go on with his song ; this he may 
not do, for he has been sworn to silence. 
Then sing to thy gelding, and not to me, she 
says. The child repeats his story, and adds 
that the steward has been deceiving both her 
and him for a twelvemonth. The lady de- 
clares that she will marry no man but him 

'A Flaunt Htaory of Roewall and LiUta/ etc., Edin- 
burgh, 1663, reprint by David Laing, Edinburgh, 18M 
Edited, with collation of the later texti and valuable con- 

that stands before her, sends in haste to her 
father to have her wedding put off, and writes 
an account of the steward's treachery to the 
old lord in Scotland. The old lord collects 
five hundred friends of high degree, and goes 
over to France in search of his son. They 
find him acting as porter at the duke's palace. 
The men of worship bow, the serving-men 
kneel, the old lord lights from his horse and 
kisses his son. The steward is just then in a 
castle-top with the duke, and sees what is 
going on below. Why are those fools show- 
ing such courtesy to the porter ? The duke 
fears that this means death for one of them. 
The castle is beset ; the steward is captured, 
is tried by a quest of lords and brought in 
guilty, is hanged, quartered, boiled, and 
burned. The young Lord of Lome is mar- 
ried -to the duke's daughter. 

B. B is an abridgment of an older copy. 
The story is the same as in A in all material 
particulars. The admiration of the school- 
master and the self-complacency of his pupil 
in A 2, 3, B 3, are better justified in B by a 
stanza which has perhaps dropped out of A : 

There 's nere a doctor in all this realm, 
For all he goes in rich array, 

[But] I can write him a lesson soon 
To learn in seven yean day. 

The last six stanzas are not represented in 
A, and the last two are glaringly modern ; 
but there is a foundation for 62-64 in a ro- 
mance from which the story is partly taken, 
the History of Roswall and Lillian.* 

4 Roswall and Lillian.' Roswall was son to 
the king of Naples. Happening one day to 
be near a prison, he heard three lords, who 
had been in durance many years for treason, 
putting up their prayers for deliverance. He 
was greatly moved, and resolved to help them 
out. The prison-keys were always hidden for 
the night under the king's pillow. Roswall 
possessed himself of them while his father 
was sleeping, set the lords free, and replaced 
the keys. The escape of the prisoners was 

tributioM to the traditional history of the tale, by O. Leng- 
ert, Englifche Stndien, XVI, 821 ff. f X VH, 341 



reported the next morning, and the king made 
a vow that whoever had been instrumental to 
it should be hanged ; if he came within the 
king's sight, the king would even slay him 
with his own hands. It soon came to light 
that the guilty party was none other than the 
prince. The queen interceded for her son, 
but the king could not altogether disregard 
his TOW : the prince must be kept out of his 
sight, and the king promptly decided that 
Roswall should be sent to reside with the 
king of Bealm, under charge of the steward, 
a stalwart knight, to whom the queen prom- 
ised everything for good service. As the pair 
rode on their way, they came to a river. The 
prince was sore athirst, and dismounted to 
take a drink. The steward seized him by the 
feet as he bent over the water, and vowed to 
throw him in unless he would swear an oath 
to surrender his money and credentials, and 
become servant where he had been master. 
To these hard terms Roswall was forced to 
consign. When they were near the king of 
Realm's palace, the steward dropped Roswall's 
company, leaving him without a penny to buy 
his dinner ; then rode to the king, presented 
letters, and was well received. Roswall went 
to a little house hard by, and begged for har- 
bor and victuals for a day. The mistress made 
him welcome. She saw he was from a far 
country, and asked his name. Dissawar was 
his name ; a poor name, said the old wife, 
but Dissawar you shall not be, for I will 
help you. The next day Roswall was sent 
to school with the dame's son. He gave his 
name as Dissawar again to the master ; the 
master said he should want neither meat nor 
teaching. Roswall had been a remarkable 
scholar at home. Without doubt he aston- 
ished the master, but this is not said, for the 
story has been abridged here and elsewhere. 
In about a month, the steward of the king of 
Bealm, who had observed his beauty, cour- 
tesy, and good parts, carried him to the court 
of Bealm, where Roswall made himself a 
general favorite. The princess Lillian, only 
child of the king of Bealm, chose him to be 
her chamberlain, fell in love with him, and 
frankly offered him her heart, an offer which 

Roswall, professing always to be of low de- 
gree, gratefully accepted. 

At this juncture the king of Bealm sent 
messengers to Naples proposing marriage be- 
tween his daughter Lillian and the young 
prince who had been commended to him. 
The king of Naples assented to the alliance, 
and deputed lords and knights to represent 
him at the solemnity. The king of Bealm 
proclaimed a joust for the three days imme- 
diately preceding the wedding. Lillian's 
heart was cold, for she loved none but Dissa- 
war. She told Dissawar that he must joust 
for his lady; but he said that he had not 
been bred to such things, and would rather go 
a-hunting. A-hunting he went, but before he 
got to work there came a knight in white 
weed on a white steed, who enjoined him to 
take horse and armor and go to the jousting, 
promising that he should find plenty of veni- 
son when he came back. Roswall toomed 
many a saddle, turned the steward's heels up- 
ward, made his way back to the wood, in 
spite of the king's order that he should be 
stopped, resumed his hunting-gear, took the 
venison, which, according to promise, was 
waiting for him, and presented himself and 
it to his lady. The order is much the same 
on the two succeeding days. A red knight 
equips Roswall for the joust on the second day, 
a knight in gold on the third. The steward 
is, on each occasion, put to shame, and in the 
last encounter two of his ribs are broken. 

When Roswall came back to the wood after 
the third jousting, the three knights appeared 
together and informed him that they were the 
men whom he had delivered from prison, and 
who had promised to help him if help he ever 
needed. They bade him have no fear of the 
steward. Lillian had suspected from the 
second day that the victor was Roswall, and 
when he returned to her from his third tri- 
umph she intimated that if he would but tell 
the whole truth to her father their mutual 
wish would be accomplished. But Roswall 
kept his counsel very whimsically, unless it 
was out of respect to his oath and Lillian 
was constrained to speak for herself, for the 
marriage was to be celebrated on the fourth 


day. She asked her father in plain terms to 
give her Dissawar for her husband. The 
king replied, not unkindly, that she could not 
marry below her rank, and therefore must take 
the prince who had been selected for her ; 
and to the steward she was married, however 
sorely against her will. In the course of the 
wedding-dinner, the three Neapolitan lords en- 
tered the hall, and saluted the king, the queen, 
and Lillian, but not the bridegroom. The 
king asked why they did no homage to their 
prince; they replied that they did not see 
their prince, went in search of Roe wall, and 
brought him in. The force of the oath, or 
the consciousness of an obligation, mast have 
been by this time quite extinct, for Roswall 
divulged the steward's treacherous behavior, 
and announced himself as the victor at the 
jousts. The steward was hanged that same 
day ; then they passed to the kirk and mar- 
ried Roswall and Lillian. There was dancing 
till supper and after supper, the minstrels 
played with good will, and the bridal was 
kept up for twenty days. 

Roswall and Lillian belongs with a group 
of popular tales of which the original seems 
to have been characterized by all or many of 
the following marks : (1) the son of a king 
liberates a man whom his father has impris- 
oned ; (2) the penalty for so doing is death, 
and to save his life the prince is sent out of 
the country, attended by a servant ; (3) the 
servant forces the prince to change places and 
clothes with him ; (4) presents himself at a 
king's court as prince, and in his assumed 
quality is in a fair way to secure the hand 
of the king's daughter ; (5) the true prince, 
figuring the while as a menial (stable-groom, 
scullion, gardener's lad), is successful, by the 
help of the man whom he has liberated, in a 
thrice-repeated contention (battle, tourney, 
race), or task, after which he is in a position 
to make known his rank and history ; (6) 
the impostor is put to death, and the prince 
(who has, perhaps, in his humbler capacity, 

* The Grimms have indicated some of the tales belong- 
ing to this group, in their notes to No 1 36 and No 89 Others 
have been added by Lengert m Enghsche Studien. A second 
group, which has several of the marks of the first, is treated 

already attracted her notice and regard) mar- 
ries the princess.* 

Two Slavic tales, a Bosnian and a Russian, 
come as near as any to the story of our ro- 

A king who has caught a wild man shuts 
him up, and denounces death to any one that 
shall let him out. The king's son's bedroom 
is just over the place in which the wild man 
is confined. The prince cannot bear to hear 
the continual wailings which come up, and he 
sets the prisoner free. The prince confesses 
what he has done ; the king is persuaded by 
his advisers to banish his son rather than to 
enforce the penalty which he had decreed ; 
the prince is sent off to a distant kingdom, 
attended by a servant. One day the prince 
was seized with thirst while travelling, and 
wished to get a drink from a well ; but there 
was nothing to draw water with, and he or- 
dered his servant to let him down to the sur- 
face of the water, holding him the while by 
the legs. This was done ; but when the prince 
had drunk to his satisfaction, the servant re- 
fused to draw him up until he had consented 
to change places and clothes, and had sworn 
besides to keep the matter secret. When 
they arrived at the court of the king desig- 
nated by the father, the sham prince was re- 
ceived with royal honors, and the true prince 
had to consort with servants. . . . After a 
time, the king, wishing to marry off his daugh- 
ter, proclaimed a three days' race, open to all 
comers, the prize to be a golden apple, and 
any competitor who should win the apple each 
of the three days to have the princess. Our 
prince had fallen in love with the young lady, 
and was most desirous to contend. The wild 
man had already helped him in emergencies 
here passed over, and did not fail him now. 
He provided his deliverer with fine clothes 
and a fine horse. The prince carried off the 
apple at each of the races, but disappeared as 
soon as he had the prize in hand. All the 
efforts of the king to find out the victor were 

by Kohler, with his usual amplitude, in Archiv fur Littera- 
turgeschichte, XII, 142-44. Abstracts of many tales of 
both groups, including all that I have cited, are given by 
Lengert. See further in Additions, p. 280 f, 



to no purpose, bat one day the princess met 
the prince in his serving-man's dress, and saw 
the apples shining from his breast. She told 
her father. The prince did not feel himself 
bound to farther secrecy ; he told everything ; 
the king gave him the princess, and the ser- 
vant was properly disposed of.* 

Ivan, the tsar's son, releases from confine- 
ment Bulat, a robber, whom the tsar has kept 
in prison three and thirty years. Bulat tells 
Ivan to call him by name in case of future 
need, and he will not fail to appear. Ivan 
travels in foreign countries with his servant, 
and feeling thirsty of a warm day tells his 
servant to get him water from a deep well to 
which they have come ; Ivan will hold him 
by a rope tied firmly about him, so that he 
can go down into the well without danger. 
The servant represents that he is the heavier 
of the two, too heavy for his master to hold, 
and that for this reason it would be better for 
Ivan himself to go for the water. Ivan is let 
down into the well, and having drunk his fill 
calls to his servant to draw him up. The ser- 
vant refuses to draw him up unless Ivan will 
swear to give him a certificate in writing that 
he is master, and Ivan servant. The paper 
is given ; they change clothes, and proceed 
on their journey, and come to Tsar Pantui's 
kingdom. Here the servant is received as a 
tsar's son, and when he tells Tsar Pantui that 
the object of his coming is to woo his daugh- 
ter, the tsar complies with much pleasure. 
Ivan, at the servant's suggestion, is put to low 
work in the kitchen. Before long the king- 
dom is invaded, and the tsar calls upon his 
prospective son-in-law to drive off the enemy, 
for which service he shall receive the princess, 
but without it, not The false Ivan begs the 
true Ivan to take the invaders in hand, and he 
assents without a word. Ivan calls for Bulat : 
one attacks the hostile army on the right, the 
other on the left, and in an hour they lay a 

Krajjev sin,' 'The King's Son,' Bosaxuke narodne pri- 
porjedke, 1870, No 4, p. 11, Serbian Folk-Lore, Madam 
Caedomille Mijatovies, ' One good torn deserves another/ 
p. 189. 

t Dietrich, Rnssische Volksmarchen, No 10, p. 131 ; Yogi, 
Die Utesten Volksmarchen der Rnssen, p. 55. ' Stagobyl,' 
Qlinaki, Bajarz polski, I, 166, ed. 1862, Chodeko, Contes 

hundred thousand low. Ivan returns to his 
kitchen. A second invasion, and a third, on 
a larger and larger scale, ensue, and Ivan and 
Bulat repulse the enemy with greater and 
greater loss. Ivan each time goes back to his 
kitchen; his servant has all the glory, and 
after the third and decisive victory marries 
the princess. Ivan gets permission from the 
cook to be a spectator at the wedding-ban- 
quet The tsar's daughter, it must now be 
observed, had overheard the conference be- 
tween the pseudo-prince and Ivan, and even 
that between Ivan and Bulat, and had hitherto, 
for inscrutable reasons, let things take their 
course. But when she saw Ivan looking at 
the feast from behind other people, she knew 
him at once, sprang from the table, brought 
him forward, and said, This is my real bride- 
groom and the savior of the kingdom ; after 
which she entered into a full explanation, with 
the result that the servant was shot, and Ivan 
married to the tsar's daughter.! 

Other tales of the same derivation, but 
deficient in some points, are: (A.) Radloff, 
Proben der Volkslitteratur der tiirkischen 
Stamme Siid-Sibiriens, IV, 385, 4 Der Peri.' 
(B.) Straparola, Piacevoli Notti, v, 1 (* Guer- 
rino, son of the king of Sicily '). (C.) Grimms, 
K.- und Hausmarchen, No 186, II, 242, ed. 
1857, * Der Eisenhans.' (D.) Sommer, Sagen, 
Marchen und Gebrauche aus Sachsen und 
Thiiringen, p. 86, No 2, 4 Der eiserne Mann.' 
(E.) Milenowsky, Volksmarchen aus Bohmen, 
p. 147, 4 Vom wUden Manne.' J 

(1) The son of a king liberates a prisoner 
(peri, wild or iron man), A-E. (The keys 
are under his mother's pillow, B, C.) (2) The 
prince goes to another kingdom, A-D with 
attendance, E without. (8) His attendant 
forces the prince to change places and clothes, 
only A. (Advantage is taken of the help- 
lessness of the hero when let down into the 
well to force exchange of parts, in the Servian 

des paysans et des patres alares, p. 198, is an abridged form 
of the same story, with a traditional rariation at the begin- 
ning, and in the conclusion a quite too ingenious torn as to 
the certificate. 

| Also, Waldav, Bohmisches M&rchenbnch, p. 50, after 
Franc Rfttaft. 


Tales of Dj. K. Stefanori*, 1871, p. 39, No 7, 
Jagid, Archiv, 1, 271 ; Meyer, Albanian Tales, 
No 13, in Arohiv fiir Litteraturgeschicbte, 
XII, 137 ; Franzisci, Cultur-Studien in Karn- 
ten, p. 99, and, nearly the same, Dozon, 
Contee Albanais, No 12, p. 88.) (5) The 
hero, serving as kitchen-boy or gardener's lad, 
G, D, E, defeats an invading army, C, D, E, 
wins a prize three successive days, 0, E, is 
successful in three tasks, A, B ; and all these 
feats are performed by the help of the pris- 
oner whom he set free. The variation of 
the color of armor and horses occurs in C, E, 
an extremely frequent trait in tales and ro- 
mances; see Ward, Catalogue of Romances, 
etc., 784 f., Lengert, XVII, 361. (Very strik- 
ing in the matter of the tournaments is the 
resemblance of the romance of Ipomedon to 
Roswall and Lillian. Ipomedon, like Roswall, 
professes not to have been accustomed to such 
things, and pretends to go a-hunting, is vic- 
torious three successive days in a white, red, 
black suit, on a white, bay, black steed, van- 
ishes after the contest, and presently reappears 
as huntsman, with venison which a friend 
had been engaged in securing for him.) (6) 
The treacherous attendant is put to death, A. 
The hero of course marries the princess in 
all the tales. 

The points in the romance which are re- 
peated in the ballad are principally these: 
The young hero is sent into a foreign country 
under the care of his father's steward. The 
steward, by threatening to drown him while 
he is drinking at a water-side, forces him to 
consent to an exchange of positions, and strips 
him of his money ; then passes himself off as 
his master's son with a noble personage, who 
eventually fixes upon the impostor as a match 
for his only daughter. The young lord, hence- 
forth known as Dissawar,* is in his extremity 
kindly received into an humble house, from 
which he soon passes into the service of the 
lady whose hand the steward aspires to gain. 

The lady bestows her love upon Dissawar, 
and he returns her attachment. In the up- 
shot they marry, the false steward having 
been unmasked and put to death. 

What is supplied in the ballad to make up 
for such passages in the romance as are omitted 
is,, however, no less strictly traditional than 
that which is retained. Indeed, were it not 
for the name Dissawar, the romance might 
have been plausibly treated, not as the source 
of the ballad, but simply as a kindred story ; 
for the exquisite tale of 'The Goose Girl' 
presents every important feature of ' The Lord 
of Lorn,' the only notable difference being 
that the young lord in the ballad exchanges 
parts with the princess in the tale, an occur- 
rence of which instances have been, from time 
to time, already indicated. 

In ' Die Gansemagd,' Grimms, No 89, II, 18, 
ed. 1857, a princess is sent by her mother to 
be wedded to a bridegroom in a distant king- 
dom, with no escort but a maid. Distressed 
with thirst, the princess orders her maid to 
get down from her horse and fetch her a cup 
of water from a stream which they are pass- 
ing. The maid refuses ; she will no longer be 
servant, and the princess has to lie down and 
drink from the stream. So a second and a third 
time: and then the servant forces her mis- 
tress, under threat of death, to change horses 
and clothes, and to swear to keep the matter 
secret at the court to which they are bound. 
There the maid is received as princess, while 
the princess is put to tending geese with a 
boy. The counterfeit princess, fearing that 
her mistress's horse, Falada, may tell what he 
has observed, induces the young prince to cut 
off Falada's head. The princess has the head 
nailed up on a gate through which she passes 
when she takes out the geese, and every morn- 
ing she addresses Falada with a sad greeting, 
and receives a sad return. The goose-boy 
tells the old king of this, and the next day 
the king hides behind the gate and hears what 

* I can make no gness that I am willing to mention as to 
the derivation and meaning of Dissawar. The old woman 
in the romance, v. 249 ff., says, ' Dissawar is a poor name, 
yet Dissawar yon shall not be, for good help you shall have ; ' 
and the schoolmaster, v. 283 ff., aays, ' Dissawar, thon shalt 

want neither meat nor laire.' It would seem that they un- 
derstood the word to mean, " in want." Some predecessor 
of the romance may by and by be recoyered which shall pot 
the meaning beyond doubt. 



passes between the goose-girl and Falada. 
The king asks an explanation of the goose- 
girl when she comes back in the evening, but 
the only answer he elicits is that she has taken 
an oath to say nothing. Then the king says, 
If you will not tell me your troubles, tell 
them to the stove ; and the princess creeps 
into the oven and pours out all her grief : 
how she, a king's daughter, has been made 
to change places with her servant, and the 
servant is to marry the bridegroom, and she 
reduced to tend geese. All this the king 
hears from outside of the room through the 
stovepipe, and he loses no time in repeating 
it to his son. The false maid is dragged 
through the streets in a barrel stuck full with 
nails, and the princess married to the prince 
to whom she had been contracted. 

The passage in the ballad in which the 
Lord of Lorn relates to the gelding, within 

hearing of the duke's daughter, the injuries 
which he had sworn to conceal has, perhaps, 
suffered some corruption, though quibbling 
as to oaths is not unknown in ballads. The 
lady should be believed to be out of earshot, 
as the king is thought to be by the goose-girl. 
Unbosoming one's self to an oven or stove 
is a decidedly popular trait ; " the unhappy 
and the persecuted betake themselves to the 
stove, and to it bewail their sufferings, or con- 
fide a secret which they may not disclose to 
the world. ' ' * An entirely similar passage (but 
without an oath to secrecy) occurs in Basile's 
Pentamerone, n, 8, where a girl who has been 
shamefully maltreated by her uncle's wife tells 
her very miserable story to a doll, and is ac- 
cidentally overheard by the uncle. The con- 
clusion of the tale is quite analogous to that 
of the goose-girl. 

Percy M&, p. 73, Hales and Furnivall, 1, 180. 

1 IT was the worthy Lord of Learen, 

He was a lord of a hie degree ; 
He had noe mo e children but one sonne, 
He sett him to schoole to learne curtesie. 

2 Lear[n]ing did soe proceed with that child, 

I tell you all in veretie, 
He learned more vpon one day 
Then other children did on three, 

3 And then bespake the schoole-mo^ter, 

Vnto the Lord of Learne said hee, 
I thinke thon be some stranger borne, 
For the holy goat remaines with thee. 

4 He said, I am noe stranger borne, 

Forsooth, master, I tell it to thee ; 
It is a gift of Almighty God 
WAwjh he hath giuen vnto mee. 

5 The schools-master turnd him round about, 

His angry mind he thought to asswage, 

* Grimm, Deotsche Mythologie, 1875, I, 523 and note. 
" In 1585, a man that had been robbed, and had sworn silence, 
told his story to a store in a tavern." A boy who has come 

For the child cold answer him soe quicklie, 
And was of soe tender yeere of age. 

6 The child he caused a steed to be brought, 

A golden bridle done him vpon ; 
He tooke his leaue of his schoolfellows, 
And home the child that he is gone. 

7 And when he came before his father, 

He ffell low downe vpon his knee : 
' My blessing, father, I wold aske, 

If Christ wold grant you wold gine it me/ 

8 ' Now God thee blesse, my sonne and my heire, 

His servant in heauen that thou may bee ! 
What tydings hast thou brought me, child, 
Thou art comen home so soone to mee ? ' 

9 * Good tydings, father, I haue you brought, 

Goo[d tydings] I hope it is to thee ; 
The booke is not in all S[c]ottlande 
But I can reade it before your eye.' 

10 A ioyed man his father was, 

uen the worthy Lord of Learne : 

to knowledge of a plot, and has been sworn to secrecy on 
pain of death, unburdens his mind to a store. Grimm, 
Deutsche Sagen, No 513, II, 231. 



* Them shalt goe into Ffrance, my child, 
The speeches of all strange lands to learne.' 

11 Bat then bespake the child his mother, 

The Lady of Learne and then was shee ; 
Sales, Who must be his well good guide, 
When he goes into that strange country ? 

12 And then bespake that bonnie child, 

Vntill his father tenderlie ; 
Saies, Father, I 'le haue the hend steward, 
For he hath beene true to you and mee. 

13 The lady to concell the steward did take, 

And counted downe a hundred pound there ; 
Saies, Steward, be true to my sonne and my 

And I will giue thee mickle mere. 

14 * If I be not true to my master,' he said, 

' Christ himself e be not trew to mee ! 
If I be not true to my lord and master, 
An ill death that I may die ! ' 

15 The Lord of Learne did apparell his child 

With bruche, and ringe, and many a thinge ; 
The apparrell he had his body vppon, 
The* say was worth a squier's liuinge. 

16 The parting of the younge Lord of Learne 

With his ffather, his mother, his ffellows 


Wold haue made a manis hart for to change, 
If a lew borne that he were. 

17 The wind did serue, and the* did sayle 

Over the sea into Ffrance land ; 
He vsed the child soe hardlie, 

He wold let him haue neuer a penny to spend. 

18 And meate he wold let the child haue none, 

Nor mony to buy none, trulie ; 
The boy was hungry and thirsty both ; 
Alas ! it was the more pitty. 

19 He laid him downe to drinke the water 

That was soe low beneathe the brime ; 
He [that] was wont to haue drunke both ale 

and wine 
Then was f aine of the water soe thinne. 

20 And as he was drinking of the water 

That ran soe low beneath the brime, 
VOL. r. 7 

Soe ready was the false steward 
To drowne the bonny boy therin. 

21 ' Haue mercy on me, worthy steward ! 

My life,' he said, ' lend it to mee, 
And all that I am heire vpon,' 
Saies, ' I will giue vnto thee.' 

22 Mercy to him the steward did take, 

And pulld the child out of the brime ; 
Euer alacke, the more pittye ! 

He tooke his clothes euen from him. 

23 Saies, Doe thou me of that veluett gowne, 

The crimson hose beneath thy knee, 
And doe me of thy cordiuant shoone, 
Are buckled with the gold soe free. 

24 ' Doe thou me off thy sattin doublett, 

Thy shirtband wrought with glistering gold, 
And doe mee off thy golden chaine, 
About thy necke soe many a fold. 

25 ' Doe thou me off thy veluett hat, 

With f ether in that is soe ffine ; 
All vnto thy silken shirt, 

That 's wrought with many a golden seam.' 

26 The child before him naked stood, 

With skin as white as lilly flower ; 
For [t]his worthy lords bewtie 
He might haue beene a ladye's paramoure. 

27 He put vpon him a lether cote, 

And breeches of the same beneath the knee, 
And sent that bony child him f roe, 
Service for to craue, truly. 

28 He pulld then forth a naked sword 

That hange full low then by his side ; 
' Turne thy name, thou villaine,' he said, 
' Or else this sword shall be thy guide.' 

29 ' What must be my name, worthy steward ? 

I pray thee now tell it me : ' 
' Thy name shalbe Pore Disaware, 
To tend sheepe on a lonelye lee.' 

30 The bonny child he went him f roe, 

And looked to himself e, truly ; 

Saw his apparrell soe simple vppon ; 

O Lord I he weeped tenderlye. 



31 Vnto a shepard's house that childe did goe, 

And mid, Sir, God you sane and see ! 
Doe yon not want a servant-boy, 

To tend your aheepe on a lonelie lee ? 

82 'Where was thon borne?' the shepard said, 

* Where, my boy, or in what country ? ' 

' Sir/ he said, ' I was borne in f ayre Scottland, 
That is soe f arr beyond the sea.' 

33 'I haue noe child,' the shepard sayd ; 

< My boy, thoust tarry and dwell with mee ; 
My liuinge,' he sayd, ' and all my goods, 
I le make thee heire [of] after mee.' 

34 And then bespake the shepard'a wife, 

To the "Lord of Learne thus did she say ; 
' Goe thy way to oar sheepe,' she said, 

* And tend them well both night and day.' 

35 It was a sore office, O Lore?, for him 

That was a lord borne of a great degree ! 
As he was tending his sheepe alone, 
Neither sport nor play cold hee. 

36 Let vs leane talking of the Lore? of Learne, 

And let all such talking goe ; 
Let vs talke more of the false steward, 
That caused the child all this woe. 

37 He sold this Lore? of Learne's his clothes 

For fine hundred pound to his pay [there], 
And bought himself e a suite of apparrell 
Might well beseeme a lord to weare. 

38 When he that gorgeous apparrell bought, 

That did soe finelie his body vppon, 
He laughed the bony child to scorne 
That was the bonny "Lord of Learne. 

89 He laughed that bonny boy to scorne ; 

Lore? ! pitty it was to heare ; 
I haue herd them say, and soe haue you too, 
That a man may buy gold to deere. 

40 When that he had all that gorgeous apparrell, 

That did soe finelie his body vpon, 
He went a woing to the Duke's daughter of 

And called himself e the Lore? of Learne. 

41 The Duke of Ffrance heard tell of this, 

To his place that worthy lore? was come, 

He entertaind him with a quart of red Benish 


Sales, Lord of Learne, thou art welcome 
to me. 

42 Then to supper that they were sett, 

Lords and ladyes in their degree ; 
The steward was sett next the Duke of France ; 
An vnseemlye sight it was to see. 

43 Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance, 

Vnto the Lore? of Leearne said hee there, 
Sayes, Lore? of Learne, if thou 'le marry my 

I 'le mend thy lining fine hundred pound a 


44 Then bespake that lady fayre, 

Answered her ffather soe alone, 
That shee would be his marryed wiffe 
If he wold make her lady of Learne. 

45 Then hand in hand the steward her he tooke, 

And plight that lady his troth alone, 
That she shold be his marryed wiffe, 
And he wold make her the ladie of Learne. 

46 Thus that night it was gone, 

The other day was come, truly ; 
The lady wold see the robucke run, 
Vp hills and dales and f orrest free. 

47 Then shee was ware of the younge Lore? of 

Tending sheepe vnder a bryar, trulye. 

48 And thus shee called vnto her maids, 

And held her hands vp thus an hie ; 
Sayes, Feitch me yond shepard's boy, 
I le know why he doth mourne, trulye. 

49 When he came before that lady fayer, 

He fell downe vpon his knee ; 
He had beene so well brought vpp 
He needed not to learne curtesie. 

60 * Where wast thou borne, thou bonny boy ? 

Where or in what countrye ? ' 
* Madam, I was borne in f aire Scottland, 
That is soe farr beyond the sea.' 



51 < What ifl thy name, thou bonny boy? 

I pray thee tell it vnto mee; ' 
'My name/ he sayes, < IB Poore Disaware, 
That tends sheepe on a lonely lee.' 

52 * One thing thou must tell mee, bonny boy, 

'Which I must needs aake of thee, 
Dost not thou know the young Lord of 

He is comen a woing into France to me/ 

53 < Yes, that I doe, madam/ he said, 

And then he wept most tenderlie ; 

* The Lord of Learne is a worthy lord, 

If he were at home in his oune country.' 

54 ' What ayles thee to weepe, my bonny boy ? 

Tell me or ere I part thee f roe : ' 
4 Nothing but for a f reind, madam, 

That 's dead from me many a yeere agoe.' 

55 A loud laughter the ladie lought, 

O Lord ! shee smiled wonderous hie : 

* I haue dwelled in France since I was borne ; 

Such a shepard's boy I did neuer see. 

56 * Wilt thou not leane thy sheepe, my child, 

And come vnto service vnto mee ? 
And I will giue thee meate and fee, 
And my chamberlaine thou shalt bee.' 

57 'Then I will leaue my sheepe, madam/ he 


' And come into service vnto thee, 
If you will giue me meate and fee, 
YOMT chamberlaine that I may bee.' 

58 When the lady came before her father, 

Shee fell low downe vpon her knee ; 
< Grant me, father/ the lady said, 
4 This boy my chamberlaine to be.' 

59 ' But nay, nay/ the duke did say, 

' Soe my daughter it may not bee ; 
The lord that is come a woing to you 
Will be offended wth you and mee.' 

00 Then came downe the false steward, 

Which called himself e the Lord of Learne, 


When he looked that bonny boy vpon, 
An angry man i-wis was hee. 

61 ' Where was thou borne, thou vagabond ? 

Where?' he sayd, 'and in what country?' 
Says, I was borne in f ayre Scotland, 
That is soe far beyond the sea. 

62 ' What is thy name, thou vagabond ? 

Haue done qu[i]cklie, and tell it to me ; ' 
' My name/ he saves, ' is Poore Disaware, 
I tend sheep on the lonelie lee.' 

63 ' Thou art a theef e/ the steward said, 

' And soe in the end I will prooue thee ; ' 

64 Then be-spake the ladie f ayre, 

' Peace, Lord of Learne ! I doe pray thee ; 
Ff or if noe loue you show this child, 
Noe favor can you haue of mee.' 

65 ' Will you beleeue me, lady f aire, 

When the truth I doe tell yee ? 
Att Aberdonie, beyond the sea, 

His father he robbed a hundred three.' 

66 But then bespake the Duke of France 

Vnto the boy soe tenderlie ; 
Sales, Boy, if thou loue harases well, 
My stable-groome I will make thee. 

67 And thus that that did passe vppon 

Till the twelve monthes did draw to an 


The boy applyed his office soe well 
Euery man became his f reind. 

68 He went forth earlye one morning 

To water a gelding at the water soe free ; 
The gelding vp, and with his head 
He hitt the child aboue his eye. 

69 ' Woe be to thee, thou gelding/ he sayd, 

' And to the mare that f oled thee ! 
Thou hast striken the Lord of Learne 
A Me tinye aboue the eye. 

70 ' first night after I was borne, a lord I was, 

An earle after my father doth die ; 
My father is the worthy Lord of Learne, 

And child he hath noe more but mee ; 
He sent me over the sea with the false stew- 

And thus that he hath beguiled mee.' 



71 The lady [wa]s in her garden greene, 

Walking with her mayds, trulye, 
And heard the boy this mourning make, 
And went to weeping, trulie. 

72 ( Sing on thy song, thou stable groome, 

I pray thee doe not let for xnee, 
And as I am a true ladie 
I wilbe trew vnto thee.' 

73 * But nay, now nay, madam ! ' he sayd, 

' Soe that it may not bee ; 
I am tane sworne vpon a booke, 
And forsworne I will not bee.' 

74 ' Sing o'n thy song to thy gelding, 

And tbou doest not sing to mee ; 
And as I am a true ladie 
I will euer be true vnto thee.' 

75 He sayd, Woe be to thee, gelding, 

And to the mare thai f oled thee ! 
For thou hast strucken the Lord of Learne 
A litle aboue mine eye. 

76 First night I was borne, a lord I was, 

An earle after my father doth dye ; 
My father is the good Lord of Learne, 

And child he hath noe other but mee ; 
My father sent me over [the sea] with the 
false steward, 

And thus that he hath beguiled mee. 

77 ' Woe be to the steward, lady,' he sayd, 

* Woe be to him verrily ! 
He hath beene about this twelve months day 
For to deceiue both thee and mee. 

78 * If you doe not my councell keepe, 

That I haue told you with good intent, 
And if you doe it not well keepe, 
Ff arwell ! my life is at an ende.' 

79 * I wilbe true to thee, Lord of Learne, 

Or else Christ be not soe vnto me ; 
And as I am a trew ladye, 

I 'le neuer marry none but thee/ 

80 Shee sent in for her father, the Duke, 

In all the speed that ere might bee ; 
* Put of my wedding, father,' shee said, 
4 For the loue of God, this monthgs three. 

81 < Sicke I am,' the ladye said, 

' sicke, and verry like to die ! 
Put of my wedding, father Duke, 
Ff or the loue of God, this monthgs three.' 

82 The Duke of France put of this wedding 

Of the steward and the lady monthes three, 
For the ladie sicke shee was, 
Sicke, sicke, and like to die. 

83 Shee wrote a letter with her owne hand, 

In all the speede that euer might bee ; 
Shee sent [it] over into Scottland, 
That is soe ffarr beyond the sea. 

84 When the messenger came beffore the old 

Lord of Learne, 

He kneeled low downe on his knee, 
And he deliuered the letter vnto him, 
In all the speed that euer might bee. 

86 [The] first looke he looked the letter vpon, 

Lo ! he wept full bitterly ; 
The second looke he looked it vpon, 
Said, False steward, woe be to thee ! 

86 When the Ladye of Learne these tydings 


O Lord \ shee wept soe biterlye : 
' I told you of this, now good my lord, 

When I sent my child into that wild 


87 * Peace, Lady of Learne,' the lord did say, 

4 For Christ his loue I doe pray thee ; 
And as I am a Christian man, 
Wroken vpon him that I wilbe.' 

88 He wrote a letter with his owne hand, 

In all the speede that ere might bee ; 
He sent it into the lords in Scottland, 
That were borne of a great degree. 


89 He sent for lords, he sent for kni^Ats, 

The best that were in the countrye, 
To go with him into the land of France, 
To seeke his sonne in that strange country. 

90 The wind was good, and they did sayle, 

Fiue hundred men into France land, 
There to seeke that bonny boy 

That was the worthy Lord of Learne. 



91 They sought the country through and through, 

Soe farr to the Duke's place of Ffrance 


There they were ware of tfiai bonny boy, 
Standing with a porter's staffe in his hand. 

92 Then the worshippfull, the* did bowe, 

The serving-men fell on their knee, 
They cast their hatte vp into the ayre 
For ioy that boy that they had scene. 

93 The Lord of Learne then he light downe, 

And kist his child both cheeke and chinne, 
And said, God blesse thee, my sonne and my 

heire ! 
The blisse of heauen that thou may winne ! 

94 The false steward and the Duke of France 

Were in a castle-topp, trulie ; 
4 What fooles are yond,' says the false steward, 
4 To the porter makes soe lowe curtesie '' ' 

95 Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance, 

Calling my Lord of Learne, trulie ; 
He sayd, I doubt the day be come 
That either you or 1 must die. 

96 Th sett the castle round about, 

A swallow cold not haue flone away ; 
And there th tooke the false steward 
That the Lord of Learne did betray. 

97 And when they had taken the false steward, 

He fell lowe downe vpon his knee, 
And craued mercy of the Lord of Learne 
For the villanous dedd he had done, trulye. 

98 * Thou shall haue mercy,' said the Lord of 


'Thou vile traitor, I tell to thee, 
As the lawes of the realme they will thee 

Wether it bee for thee to Hue or dye.' 

99 A quest of lords that there was chosen, 

To goe vppon his death, trulie ; 
There the* iudged the false steward, 
Whether he was guiltie, and for to dye. 

100 The forman of the iury he came in, 

He spake his words full lowd and hie ; 

Said, Make thee ready, thou false steward, 
For now thy death it drawes full nie. 

101 Sayd he, If my death it doth draw nie, 

God forgiue me all I haue done amisse ! 
Where is that lady I haue loued soe longe ? 
Before my death to giue me a kisse. 

102 * Away, thou traitor ! ' the lady said, 

* Auoyd out of my company ! 
For thy vild treason thou hast wrought, 
Thou had need to cry to God for raercye.' 

103 First they tooke him and h[a]ngd him halfe, 

And let him downe before he was dead, 
And quartered him in quarters many, 
And sodde him in a boyling lead. 

104 And then they tooke him out againe, 

And cutten all his ioynts in sunder, 
And burnte him eke vpon a hyll ; 
I-wis the* did him curstlye cumber. 

105 A loud laughter the lady laught, 

Lord r she smiled merrylie ; 

She sayd, I may praise my heauenly king 
That euer I seene this vile traytor die. 

106 Then bespake the Duke of France, 

Vnto the right Lord of Learne sayd he 

there ; 

Says, Lord of Learne, if thou wilt marry my 

1 'le mend thy liuing fiue hundred a yeere. 

107 But then bespake that bonie boy, 

And answered the Duke quicklie, 
I had rather marry yowr daughter wtth a ring 

of go[ld] 

Then all the gold that ere I blinket on with 
mine eye. 

108 But then bespake the old Lord of Learne, 

To the Duke of France thus he did say, 
Seeing our children doe soe well agree, 
They shalbe marryed ere wee goe away. 

109 The Lady of Learne shee was sent for 

Throughout Scottland soe speedilie, 
To see these two children sett vpp 
In their seats of gold full royallye. 



a. Wood, 401, fol. 95 b. b. Roxburghe, I, 222, HI, 534 ; 
Roxburghe Ballads, ed. Chappell, II, 55. o. Pepys, I, 494, 
No 254 (from a transcript in Percy's papers). 

1 IT was a worthy Lord of Lorn, 

He was a lord of high degree, 
He sent [his son] unto the schoole, 
To learn some civility. 

2 He learned more learning in one day 

Then other children did in three ; 
And then bespake the schoolmaster 
Unto him tenderly. 

3 ' In faith thou art the honestest boy 

That ere I blinkt on with mine eye ; 
I hope thou art some easterling born, 
The Holy Ghost is with thee.' 

4 He said he was no easterling born, 

The child thus answered courteously ; 
My father is the Lord of Lorn, 
And I his son, perdye. 

5 The schoolmaster turned round about, 

His angry mood he could not swage ; 
He marvelled the child could speak so wise, 
He being of so tender age. 

6 He girt the saddle to the steed, 

The bridle of the best gold shone ; 
He took his leave of his fellows all, 
And quickly he was gone. 

7 And when he came to his father dear 

He kneeled down upon his knee ; 
* I am come to you, f athe[r],' he said, 
* God's blessing give you me/ 

8 * Thou art welcome, son,' he said, 

< God's blessing I give thee ; 

What tidings hast thou brought, my son, 
Being come so hastily ? ' 

9 < I have brought tidings, father,' he said, 

< And so liked it may be, 

There 's never a book in all Scotland 
Bat I can read it, truly. 

10 * There 's nere a doctor in all this realm, 

For all he goes in rich array, 
I can write him a lesson soon 
To learn in seven years day.' 

11 < That is good tidings/ said the lord, 

' All in the place where I do stand ; 
My son, thou shalt into France go, 
To learn the speeches of each land.' 

12 < Who shall go with him? ' said the lady; 

' Husband, we have no more but he ; ' 
' Madam,' he saith, * my head steward. 
He hath bin true to me.' 

13 She cal'd the steward to an account, 

A thousand pound she gave him anon ; 
Sayes, Good Sir Steward, be as good to my 

When he is far from home. 

14 * If I be fals unto my young lord, 

Then God be [the] like to me indeed ! ' 
And now to France they both are gone, 
And God be their good speed. 

15 They had not been in France land 

Not three weeks unto an end, 
But meat and drink the child got none, 
Nor mony in purse to spend. 

16 The child ran to the river's side ; 

He was fain to drink water then ; 
And after followed the fals steward, 
To put the child therein. 

17 ' But nay, marry ! ' said the child, 

He asked mercy pittifully, 
1 Good steward, let me have my life, 
What ere betide my body.' 

18 ' Now put off thy fair cloathing 

And give it me anon ; 
So put thee of thy s'lken shirt, 
With many a golden seam.' 

19 But when the child was stript naked. 

His body white as the lilly-flower, 
He might have bin seen for his body 
A prince's paramour. 

20 He put him in an old kelter coat 

And hose of the same above the knee, 
He bid him go to the shepherd's house, 
To keep sheep on a lonely lee. 

21 The child did Bay, What shall be my name ? 

Good steward, tell to me ; 



* Thy name shall be Poor Disawear, 
That thy name shall be.' 

22 The child came to the shepheard's house 

And asked mercy pittifolly ; 
Sayes, Good sir shepheard, take me in, 
To keep sheep on a lonely lee. 

23 Bat when the shepheard saw the child, 

He was so pleasant in his eye, 
1 1 have no child, I 'le make thee my heir, 
Thou shalt have my goods, perdie.' 

24 And then bespake the shepheard's wife, 

Unto the child so tenderly ; 
' Thou most take the sheep and go to the field, 
And keep them on a lonely lee/ 

25 Now let us leave talk of the child, 

That is keeping sheep on a lonely lee, 
And we '1 talk more of the f als steward, 
And of his fals treachery. 

26 He bought himself three suits of apparrell, 

That any lord might a seem[d] to worn, 
He went a wooing to the Duke's daughter, 
And cal'd himself the Lord of Lorn. 

27 The duke he welcomed the yong lord 

With three baked stags anon ; 
If he had wist him the fals steward, 
To the devill he would have gone. 

28 But when they were at supper set, 

With dainty delicates that was there, 
The d[uke] said, If thou wilt wed my daughter, 
I 'le give thee a thousand pound a year. 

29 The lady would see the red buck run, 

And also for to hunt the doe, 
And with a hundred lusty men 
The lady did a hunting go. 

80 The lady is a hunting gon, 

Over le and fell that is so high ; 
There was she ware of a shepherd's boy, 
With sheep on a lonely lee. 

31 And ever he sighed and made moan, 

And cried out pittifully, 
1 My father is the Lord of Lorn, 
And knows not wha[t] 's become of me.' 

32 And then bespake the lady gay, 

And to her maid she spake anon, 
' Go fetch me hither the shepherd's boy; 
Why maketh he all this moan? ' 

33 But when he came before the lady 

He was not to learn his courtesie : 

34 ' Where was thou born, thou bonny child ? 

For whose sake makst thou all this mone ? ' 
' My dearest friend, lady,' he said, 
' Is dead many years agon.' 

35 ' Tell thou to me, thou bonny child, 

Tell me the truth and do not lye, 
Knost thou not the yong lord of Lorn, 
Is come a wooing unto me ? ' 

36 Yes, forsooth,' then said the child, 

* I know the lord then, veryly ; 
The young lord is a valliant lord 

At home in his own country.' 

37 ' Wilt leave thy sheep, thou bonny child, 

And come in service unto me ? ' 
' Yes, forsooth,' then said the child, 

* At your bidding will I be.' 

38 When the steward lookt upon the child, 

He bewraild him villainously : 
* Where wast thou born, thou vagabone ? 
Or where is thy country ? ' 

39 ' Ha don ! ha don ! ' said the lady gay, 

She cal'd the steward then presently ; 
1 Without you bear him more good will, 
You get no love of me.' 

40 Then bespake the false steward 

Unto the lady hastily : 
1 At Aberdine, beyond the seas, 
His father robbed thousands three.' 

41 But then bespake the lady gay 

Unto her father courteously, 
Saying, I have found a bonny child 
My chamberlain to be. 

42 ' Not so, not so,' then said the duke, 

1 For so it may not be, 



For that young L[ord] of Lorn that comes 

a wooing 
Will think somthing of thee and me.' 

43 When the duke had lookt upon the child, 

He seemd so pleasant to the eye, 
' Child, because thou lovst horses well, 
My groom of stables thou shalt be.' 

44 The child plied the horses well 

A twelve month to an end ; 
He was so courteous and so true 
Every man became his fri[e]nd. 

45 He led a fair gelding to the water, 

Where he might drink, verily ; 
The great gelding up with his head 
And hit the child above the eye. 

46 * Wo worth thee, horse ! ' then said the child, 

' That ere mare foaled thee ! 
Thou little knowst what thou hast done ; 
Thou hast stricken a lord of high degree/ 

47 The d[uke's] daughter was in her garden 


She heard the child make great moan ; 
She ran to the child all weeping, 
And left her maidens all alone. 

48 ' Sing on thy song, thou bonny child, 

I will release thee of thy pain ; ' 

* I hate made an oath, lady/ he said, 

* I dare not tell my tale again/ 

49 ' Tell the horse thy tale, thou bonny child, 

And so thy oath shall saved be ; ' 
But when he told the horse his tale 
The lady wept full tenderly. 

50 ' I 'le do for thee, my bonny child, 

In faith I will do more for thee ; 
For I will send thy father word, 

And he shall come and speak with me. 

51 ' I will do more, my bonny child, 

In faith I will do more for thee, 
And for thy sake, my bonny child, 

I le put my wedding off months three.' 

52 The lady she did write a letter, 

Full pittifully with her own hand, 

She sent it to the Lord of Lorn 
Whereas he dwelt in fair Scotland. 

53 But when the lord had read the letter 

His lady wept most tenderly : 
' I knew what would become of my child 
In such a far country.' 

54 The old lord cal'd up his merry men, 

And all that he gave cloth and fee, 
With seven lords by his side, 
And into France rides he. 

55 The wind servd, and they did saile 

So far into France land ; 
They were ware of the Lord of Lorn, 
With a porter's staff in his hand. 

56 The lords they moved hat and hand, 

The servingmen fell on their knee ; 
' What folks be yonder/ said the steward, 
' That makes the porter courtesie ? ' 

57 Thou art a false thief,' said the L[ord] of 


' No longer might I bear with thee ; 
By the law of France thou shalt be ju[d]gd, 
Whether it be to live or die.' 

58 A quest of lords there chosen was, 

To bench they came hastily, 
But when the quest was ended 
The fals steward must dye. 

59 First they did him half hang, 

And then they took him down anon, 
And then put him in boyling lead, 
And then was sodden, brest and bone. 

60 And then bespake the Lord of Lorn, 

With many other lords mo ; 
* Sir Duke, if you be as willing as we, 
We '1 have a marriage before we go.' 

61 These children both they did rejoyce 

To hear the lord his tale so ended ; 
They had rather to day then to morrow. 
So he would not be offended. 

62 But when the wedding ended was 

There was delicious dainty cheer ; 
I 'le tell you how long the wedding did last, 
Full three quarters of a year. 



63 Such a banquet there was wrought, 

The like was never seen ; 
The king of France brought with him then 
A hundred tun of good red wine. 

64 Five set of musitians were to be seen, 

That never rested night nor day, 
Also Italians there did sing, 
Full pleasantly with great joy. 

65 Thus have yon heard what troubles great 

Unto successive joyes did turn. 
And happy news among the rest 
Unto the worthy Lord of Lorn. 

66 Let rebels therefore warned be 

How mischief once they do 
For God may suffer for a time, 
But will disclose it in the end. 

2*. on 3. 5*. agee. 9 a . to mee. 
10 4 . to learne the speeches of all strange lands. 
13*. 100 1 !. 16 8 . ? mams in MS. Furnivall. 
19*. brimn. 19 4 . thime. 22'. euen alacke. 
24'. a long s in the MS. between me and 

off. F. 

25*. thate. 25 4 . golden swaine. B. seam. 
35*. tenting. 36'. falst 
37 a . 500 U : pay [there]. Cf. 43", 105 
43 4 . 500 1 . 46 8 . rum. 
47 1>a , 48 1 * 8 , make a stanza in the MS., and 

52 M , 53, are written together. 47-^63 have 

been arranged upon the supposition that 

two verses (about the boy's mourning) have 

dropped out after 47 lf2 . 
48 1 ' 8 . A tag after d in maids, hands may not 

mean s. F. 

63*. One stroke too many for oune in MS. F. 
54 1 . One stroke too many for bony, or too few 

for bonny, in the MS. F. 
60 4 . I-wis. 61 1 . thouwas. 
63 W , 64, are written together in the MS. 
64 1 . he spake. 65 4 . 100: 3. 67 2 . 12. 
69*. the knee. Cf .68 4 , 75 4 . 
70 4 . his child. Cf. 76 4 . 
74*. euer. Either ieuer in MS. or the letter 

before e crossed out. F. 
75 W are written with 74, 75 M with 76 1 ' 8 , in 

the MS. 

75 1 . to thy. 76*. Cf. 70*. 77 1 . to thee. 
77 8 . beene aboue : 12. 
79*. soe may be true : half the line is pared 

away. F. 

80*, 81 4 , 82 a . 3. 90 J . 600. 92 s . knees. 
92*. Perhaps did see. 93 s . chime. 
93*. wiine. 95 s . daubt. 
98*. they. The y is in a modern hand. F. 
100. hiye. 106*. 500. 
107*. mine. One stroke too few in the MS. F. 

109 1 . They: for sent 
109 8 . 2. And for & always. 
B. The tune is Green Sleeves. 

a. Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and W. Gil- 


b. Printed by and for A. M[ilbourne], and sold 

by the booksellers of London, 
o. Printed for J. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and 

T. Passinger. 

a, b, o. 1 s . b, o. sent his son. 
2 1 . b, o. learning wanting. 
2*. b, o. And thus. 2 4 . o. To him. 
3*. b, o. with my. 4 8 . a. Lord of Lord. 
5*. b. he thought to asswage. 
5 4 . b. so tender of. 

6 9 . a. of his (?) gold, b, o. of the best gold. 
7 1 . o. on his. 7 4 . b. give to. 
8 1 . b, o. my son. 8 a . o. I the give. 
9*. b. if that well liked. 9 s * 4 . b,o. Wanting. 
10 1 . b, o. all the. II 8 . b. to France. 
12 1 . b, o. have none. 12 8 . b. said he. 
13 8 . b, c. as wanting. 13 4 . b, a while he. 
14 1 . b. false to. 
14 9 . b. may God justly punish me indeed. 

c. the like. 

15 J . b, o. to an. 16 1 . b, o. run. b. river. 
16 s . b. the water. 17 4 . b. eer else. 
19 s . b, o. as white. 19 4 . b. princess's. 
20 1 . b, o. him on. 20*. a. thee. 
20 4 . a. love lodely : b. keep them on a love 

lovely : o. love lovely. 
21 1 . b, o. child said. 
21 8 . a, b, o. poor dost thou wear. A. dis- 


22 1 . b, o. sir wanting. 
22 4 ; 24 4 , 25 s , 30 4 . a, b, o. love lovely. JL 

lonelye lee. Perhaps, lone, lone, lee. 
23*. b, o. in the. 
24 1 . a. wise, b, a bespoke. 



24'. o. thee sheep, b. to field. 

24*. a, o. And get. b. keep. 

25 1 . b, o. talking. 25 s . o. we will. 

26*. b. a lord, b, a have eeemd. 

27 s . o. himself. 27*. b, o. he should. 

28 J . b, a were. 28 s . b. you wilL 

28 4 . b, o. pounds. 29*. b, o. an. 

30 s . a, o. FeanselL b. feanser. 

30 8 . b, o. aware. 

31 1 . b. And often : made great moan. 

31*. o. what is. 

32*. b, o. unto her maid anon. 

S3 1 * 4 , a, b, o. Two lines wanting. 

34 1 . b. wast born. o. wast thon horn. 

35 1 . b. to wanting. 35*. o. the wanting. 

35 4 . b, o. he is. 

36 1 . a. f oorsooth. a forsooth saith the. 

37*. o. the wanting. 

38 a . b, o. bewailed, o. villaniously. 

38'. b, o. vagabond. 

39 1 . a, b, o. Ha down, b, o. gay wanting. 

40 1 . a. stewardly. 41 1 . o. than. 

42 s . b. the Lord. o. young D. 

42 4 . b) o. think no good. b. of me nor thee. 

43 1 . b. had wanting. 43 9 . b. in the. 

43 4 . b, c. stable. 

44 4 . a, a become, b. became. 

45 s . a. may. b, o. might 

45 s . b, o. great wanting, b. his heeL 

46 1 . a. thou horse, b. thee. o. the. 

46 9 . b, o, ever. 47 1 . a, a D. daughter. 

49 1 . a. MeU : lonny. 49*. b, o. wept most. 

60 s - 4 , 51 1 ' 2 . b, o. Wanting. 

62 1 . b, o. she wanting : letter then. 

62 4 . a. dwells, b, o. dwelt 

54 4 . b. unto. 

65 s . b. aware. 56 4 . o. maketh. 

67 l . b, o. quoth the. 69 a . b. they wanting. 

60 s . a. more, b, c. mo. 61 s . b, o. than. 

62 a . b, o. delicate, dilicate. 

63. a. Before 63 : Such a banquet there was 

wrought, the like was seen I say. 
64 1 . a. fet b, o. set 
65 1 . b, c. how troubles. 65 s . b, o. amongst 



< The Suffolk Miracle.' a. Wood, E. 25, fol. 83. b. Roxburghe, II, 240; Moore's Pictorial Book of Ancient 

Ballad Poetry, p. 463. 

ALSO Pepys, HI, 832, No 828 ; Crawford, 
No 1363 ; Old Ballads, 1723, 1, 266. 

A young man loved a farmer's daughter, 
and his love was returned. The girl's father 
sent her to his brother's, forty miles off, to 
stay till she should change her mind. The 
man died. A month after, he appeared at the 
uncle's at midnight, and, as he came on her 
father's horse and brought with him her 
mother's travelling gear, he was allowed to 
take the girl away with him. As they rode, 
he complained of headache, and the girl bound 
her handkerchief about his head ; he was cold 
as clay. In two hours they were at her fa- 
ther's door. The man went to put up the 

horse, as he said, but no more was seen of him. 
The girl knocked, and her father came down, 
much astonished to see her, and still more as- 
tonished when she asked if her lover, known 
by the father to be dead, had not been sent 
to bring her. The father went to the stable, 
where the girl said the man would be ; there 
was nobody there, but the horse was found 
to be c all on a sweat.' After conferences, the 
grave was opened, and the kerchief was found 
about the head of the mouldering body. This 
was told to the girl, and she died shortly after. 
This piece could not be admitted here on 
its own merits. At the first look, it would be 
classed with the vulgar prodigies printed for 



hawkers to sell and for Mopsa and Dorcas to 
buy. It is not even a good specimen of its 
kind. Ghosts should have a fair reason for 
walking, and a quite particular reason for rid- 
ing. In popular fictions, the motive for their 
leaving the grave is to ask back plighted troth, 
to be relieved from the inconveniences caused 
by the excessive grief of the living, to put a 
stop to the abuse of children by stepmothers, 
to repair an injustice done in the flesh, to fulfil 
a promise ; at the least, to announce the vis- 
itant's death. One would not be captious 
with the restlessness of defeated love, but 
what object is there in this young man's rising 
from the grave to take his love from her un- 
cle's to her father's house ? And what sense 
is there in his headache ? 

I have printed this ballad because, in a 
blurred, enfeebled, and disfigured shape, it is 
the representative in England of one of the 
most remarkable tales and one of the most 
impressive and beautiful ballads of the Euro- 
pean continent. The relationship is put be- 
yond doubt by the existence of a story in 
Cornwall which comes much nearer to the 
Continental tale.* 

Long, long ago, Frank, a farmer's son, was 
in love with Nancy, a very attractive girl, 
who lived in the condition of a superior ser- 
vant in his mother's house. Frank's parents 
opposed their matching, and sent the girl 
home to her mother ; but the young pair con- 
tinued to meet, and they bound themselves to 
each other for life or for death. To part them 
effectually, Frank was shipped for an India 
voyage. He could not write, and nothing was 
heard of him for nearly three years. On 
All-hallows-Eve Nancy went out with two 
companions to sow hemp-seed. Nancy began 
the rite, saying : 

Hemp-eeed, I BOW thee, 

Hemp-seed, grow thee ! 

And he who will my true-love be 

Come after me 

And shaw thee. 

* Mr W. E. A. Axon, in his Lancashire Gleanings, p. 261, 
speaks of the story of the Spectre Bridegroom as haying 
been current in the neighborhood of Liverpool in the last 
century, both in an oral and a printed form. Bat it is plain 
that what was current, either way, was simply ' The Suffolk 
Miracle/ Of this I hare a copy learned in the north of Ire- 

This she said three times, and then, looking 
back over her left shoulder, she saw Frank 
indeed, hut he looked so angry that she 
shrieked, and so broke the spell. One night 
in November a ship was wrecked on the coast, 
and Frank was cast ashore, with just enough 
life in him to ask that he might be married 
to Nancy before he died, a wish which was 
not to be fulfilled. On the night of his fu- 
neral, as Nancy was about to lock the house- 
door, a horseman rode up. His face was 
deadly pale, but Nancy knew him to be her 
lover. He told her that he had just arrived 
home, and had come to fetch her and make 
her his bride. Nancy was easily induced to 
spring on the horse behind him. When she 
clasped Frank's waist, her arm became stiff as 
ice. The horse went at a furious pace ; the 
moon came out in full splendor. Nancy saw 
that the rider was in grave-clothes. She had 
lost the power of speech, but, passing a black- 
smith's shop, where the smith was still at 
work, she recovered voice and cried, Save me I 
with all her might. The smith ran out with 
a hot iron in his hand, and, as the horse was 
rushing by, caught the girl's dress and palled 
her to the ground. But the rider held on to 
the gown, and both Nanc} and the smith were 
dragged on till they came near the church- 
yard. There the horse stopped for a moment, 
and the smith seized his chance to burn away 
the gown with his iron and free the girl. The 
horseman passed over the wall of the church- 
yard, and vanished at the grave in which the 
young man had been laid a few hours before. 
A piece of Nancy's dress was found on the 
grave. Nancy died before morning. It was 
said that one or two of the sailors who sur- 
vived the wreck testified that Frank, on Hal- 
loween, was like one mad, and, after great 
excitement, lay for hours as if dead, and that 
when he came to himself he declared that if 
he ever married the woman who had cast the 
spell, he would make her suffer for drawing 
his soul out of his body.f 

land in 1850 (and very much changed as to form), in which 
the scene is laid " between Armagh and County Clare." 

t Popular Romances of the West of England, collected 
and edited by Robert Hunt, First Series, pp. 265-73, dating 
from about 1830. 



A tale of a dead man coming on horseback 
to his inconsolable love, and carrying her to 
his grave, is widely spread among the Slavic 
people (with whom it seems to have origi- 
nated) and the Austrian Germans, was well 
known a century ago among the northern 
Germans, and has lately been recovered in 
the Netherlands, Denmark, Iceland, and Brit- 
tany. Besides the tale in its integrity, cer- 
tain verses which occur in it, and which are 
of a kind sure to impress the memory, are 
very frequent, and these give evidence of a 
very extensive distribution. The verses are 
to this effect : 

The moon shines bright in the lift, 
The dead, they ride so swift, 
Love, art thou not afraid ? 

to which the lovelorn maid answers, 

How fear, when I am with thee ? * 

There are also ballads with the same story, 
one in German, several in Slavic, but these 
have not so original a stamp as the tale, and 
have perhaps sprung from it. 

The following will serve as specimens of 
the tale in question ; many more may certainly 
be recovered : 

Great Russian. 1-5, Sozonovid, Appen- 
dix, Nos 1, 2, 7, 8, 9.f Little Russian. 6-8, 
Trudy, II, 411, 413, 414, Nos 119-21 ; 9, 
Dragomanof, p. 392 ; 10-15, Sozonovitf, Ap- 
pendix, Nos 4-6, 10-12 ; 16, Bugiel, in the 
Slavic Archiv, XIV, 146. White Russian. 
17, 18, SozonoviS, Appendix, No 3 ; Dobro 
volflkij, Ethnographical Collection from Smo- 
lensk, p. 126, No 58. Servian. 19, Krauss, 
in Wisla, IV, 667. Croat. 20, 21, Strohal, 

* A portion (or portions) of a Low German tale of this 
class, the verses and a little more, was the basis of Burger's 
' Lenore,' composed in 1773. (As to the particulars of the 
traditional basis, Erich Schmidt seems to me undoubtedly 
right: Charakteristiken, p. 219 f.) At the end of the last 
century, when 'Lenore' became well known in England 
through half a dozen translations, it was maintained that 
Burger had taken the idea of his ballad from ' The Suffolk 
Miracle,' with which he was supposed to have become ac- 
quainted through the copy in Old Ballads, 1723. See The 
Monthly Magazine, 1796, II, 603. But it is nearly certain 
that Burger had not seen, and never saw, the " Old Ballads " 
of 1723. In 1777 Boie made him acquainted with a book 
of that title, but this was in all probability Evans's first col- 

pp. 114, 115, Nos 20, 21. Croat-Slovenian. 
22-24, Valjavec, Narodne Pripovjedke, p. 
239; Plohl-Herdvigov, I, 127, 129. Slove- 
nian. 25, 26, Krek, in the Slavic Archiv, X, 
357, 358. Polish. 27, Zamarski, p. 121; 
28, Grudzinski, p. 15 ; 29, Lach-Szyrma, Pa- 
mietnik Naukowy, 1819, I, 358 ; 80, Kolberg, 
Lud, XIV, 181 ; 31, Treichel, in Zeitschrift 
f iir Volkskunde, II, 144 ; 82, Chelchowski, II, 
40-42, No 59; 33, Siarkowski, in Zbi6r wia- 
domo&i do antropologii krajowe*j, III, III (21). 
Bohemian. 84, Sumlork, I, 608; 35, Erben, 
Rytice z basnf, p. 23 (ballad founded on tale). 
Slovak. 36, Dobsinsky, pp. 23-30 (three 
versions). Wendish. 37, Schulenburg, Wen- 
dische Volkssagen, p. 137 (fragment). Lith- 
uanian. 38, Leskien u. Brugman, p. 160, 
No 2, p. 497, No 43. Magyar. 39, Pap, 
Pal6c Ne*pkolteme*nyek, p. 94, also Arany 
and Gyulai, I, 207, No 52, and 569, Aigner, 
in Gegenwart, 1875, No 12. Gypsy. 40, 
Wlislocki, Volksdichtungen der siebenbiir- 
gischen u. siidungarischen Zigeuner, p. 288, 
No 43. German, High and Low. 41, Sztodola, 
in Herrmann, Ethnologische Mittheilungen 
aus Ungarn. col. 341 f. (Ofen) ; 42-45, Ver- 
naleken, Mythen u. Brauche des Volkes in 
Oesterreich, pp. 76 f., 79 f., Nos 6-9 (Lower 
Austria) ; 46-48, A. Baumgarten, Aus der 
volksmassigen Ueberlieferung der Heimat 
(Geburt, Heirat, Tod), pp. 135, 136, 136 f. 
(Upper Austria) ; 49, Boeckel, in Germania, 
XXXI, 117 (Baden) ; 50, 51, Jahn, Volks- 
sagen aus Pommern u. Riigen, pp. 404, 406, 
No 515, I, n; 52, J. F. Cordes, in The 
Monthly Magazine, 1799, VIII, 602 f. (Glan- 
dorf, Lower Saxony) ; 53, Miillenhof, Sagen, 
etc., p. 164, No 224 (Ditmarsch). Nether- 
lection, which appeared in that year See Strodtmann, 
Briefe von und an G A Burger, II, 85, 87 Burger knew 
' Sweet William's Ghost ' from Percy's Rehques, and took 
a hint or two from that, besides the lover's name. 

t I Sozonovid, Burger's 'Lenore,' and the related matter 
m European and Russian popular poetry, Warsaw, 1893 
(in Russian). Professor Wollner has furnished me transla- 
tions of gome twenty -five pieces in Sozonovid See, for Ger- 
man versions of many of the Slavic tales and ballads, Woll- 
ner, in Archiv fur slavieche Philologie, VI, 243-59 , Krek, in 
the same, X, 357-59, and in Magazm fur die Litteratur des 
In- u. Auslandes, 1887, CXII, 629-32, 650-54 , Grudzirfaki, 
Lenore in Polen, 1890, p 13 ff , Treichel, m Zeitschrift fur 
VoUuknnde, U, 144. 



landish. 54-56, Pol de Mont, in Volkskunde, 
II, 129-31. Danish. 57, Grundtvig, Dan- 
marks g. Folkeviser, III, 873. Icelandic. 58, 
Arnason, fslenzkar JrjoSsogur, I, 280 ff. ; 
Maurer, Islandische Volkssagen, p. 73 L 

A lover, who has long been unheard of, but 
whose death has not been ascertained, roused 
from his last sleep by the grief of his mistress 
(which in some cases drives her to seek or ac- 
cept the aid of a spell), comes to her by night 
on horseback and induces her to mount behind 
him. As they ride, he says several times to 
her, The moon shines bright, the dead ride 
swift, art not afraid? Believing him to be 
living, the maid protests that she feels no fear, 
but at last becomes alarmed. He takes her 
to his burial-place, and tries to drag her into 
his grave ; she escapes, and takes refuge in 
a dead-house (or house where a dead man is 
lying). The lover pursues, and calls upon 
the dead man within the house to give her up, 
which in most cases, for fellowship, he pre- 
pares to do. At the critical moment a cock 
crows, and the maid is saved. 

Some of the tales are brief and defective, 
some mixed with foreign matter. The pre- 
dominant traits, with a few details and varia- 
tions, may be briefly exhibited by a synoptical 

A pair of lovers are plighted to belong 
to each other in life and death, 50, 51, 57 ; 
whichever dies first is to visit the other, 48 ; 
the man, at parting, promises to come back, 
alive or dead, 25, 26. The man dies in war, 
1, 2, 10, 14, 15, 17, 20-22, 25-29, 31, 32, 36, 
39, 42, 45-52 ; the maid, her lover not return- 
ing, grieves incessantly, 4, 6-13, 15-18, 28, 
29, 32, 49, 53. (The return of the lover is 
enforced by a spell, recommended or con- 
ducted by an old woman, 22, 28, 36, 39, 41, 
45, advised by a priest, 20, 21, worked by 
the maid, 33 ; a dead man's head, bones, 
carcass, boiled in a pot, 15-17, 20, 21, 22, 
27, 39, a piece of the man's clothing, 28, a 
cat burned in a red-hot oven, 33.) The 
man comes on horseback, mostly at night; 
she mounts with him, 1-5, 8-12, 14-23, 25- 
32, 36-44, 46, 48-53, 56-58, taking with her 
a bundle of clothes, smocks, etc., 1, 6, 7, 9, 16, 

17, 21, 23, 24, 26, 32, 35, 36, 38. (There 
are two horses, 45 ; they go off in coach or 
wagon, 6, 7, 13, 24, 33 ; stag for horse, 47 ; 
afoot, 35, 54.) As they go, the man says or 
sings once or more, The moon shines bright, 
the dead ride fast, art thou afraid ? and she 
answers that with him she has no fear. The 
verses occur in some form in all copies but 2, 
3, 9, 11, 13, 15, 29, 32, 33, 38, 40, 51, and 
are mostly well preserved. (It is a voice from 
the churchyard in 38.) 

Arrived at a grave in a churchyard, the 
man bids the maid to go in, 2, 4-6, 8, 10-17, 
20, 21, 23, 24, 26, 32, 36, 39 ; she says, You 
first, 2, 4-6, 8, 11-17, 23, 24, 32, 36, 39 ; she 
will first throw him her things, and then come, 
14 ; she throws in her bundle of things, 1, 5, 23, 
24, 26, 32, 36 ; hands them to him one after 
another, 6, 7, 16, 17 ; tells him to take her by 
the hands, and reaches out to him the sleeves 
of her gown, 2, 12 ; gives him the end of a 
piece of linen or of a ball of thread to pull 
at, 16, 19 ; asks him to spread her kerchief 
in the grave to make the frozen ground softer, 
27, all this to gain time. He tears her things 
in the grave, 9, 13, 24 ; he seizes her apron, 
clutches her clothes, to drag her in, 4, 8, 21, 
22, 25, 43, 44, 47, 48 (in 4 she cuts the apron 
in two, in 8 tears her gown off, in 25, 43, 44, 
48, her apron parts) ; she runs off, 1-9, 11, 
13-17, 20-27, 29, 30, 35, 36, 38, 39, 41, 45, 46, 
48, 50 ; she throws down articles of dress to 
delay his pursuit, he tears them, 9, 13, 18, 38. 

The maid takes refuge in a dead-house (or 
house in which there is a dead body, or two, 
or three), 1-4, 6, 8, 11-15, 17, 18, 20-22, 
24-27, 29, 30, 32, 34-36, 38, 39, 41, 45, 46 
(malt-kiln, 5, house of vampire, 16). She 
climbs on to the stove, or hides behind it, 
6-8, 11, 13-16, 21, 24, 26, 32, 34, 36, 39, 41. 
The dead lover calls to the dead in the 
house to open, hand her out, 4, 6, 8, 11, 17, 
20-22, 25, 26, 27, 29, 30, 32, 35, 36, 38, 39, 
41, 45, 46, 48, 50, 57 (to seize the girl, 11 ; to 
tear her to pieces, 24) ; the dead man within 
is disposed to help his comrade, makes an 
effort so to do, 11, 29, 34, 41, 45, 46 ; opens 
the door, 6, 21, 36, 39 ; is prevented from 
helping because the maid has laid her cross, 



scapular, on his coffin, 4, 17 ; (two dead, be- 
cause she has laid her rosary on the feet of 
one, her prayer-book on the feet of the other, 
82 ;) the maid throws at him beads from her 
rosary, which check his movements until the 
string is exhausted ; the maid puts up three 
effectual prayers, 85 ; Ave sounds, 48 ; by 
the maid's engaging his attention with a 
long tale, 88 ; because his wife or a watcher 
knocks him on the head, and orders him to 
lie where he is, 20, 80 ; because his wife has 
turned him over on his face, 57. In a few 
cases the dead man within inclines to protect 
the maid, 1, 22, 25 ; the two get into a fight, 
1, 18-15, 17, 26, 86 (quarrel, 7). The cock 
crows, and the dead fall powerless, return to 
their places, turn to pitch, vanish, 1, 2, 8, 5, 
8, 10, 11, 13-15, 17, 24, 26, 27, 29, 30, 32, 
84-36, 39, 41, 45, 46, and the maid is saved.* 

In some of the tales of this section the 
maid is not so fortunate : in 6, the two dead 
take her by the legs and tear her asunder ; 
in 21, the lover tears her, the dead man in 
the house having surrendered her. In 39, the 
lover, having been let in, says to the other 
dead man. Let us tear her to pieces, and is 
proceeding to do so, but is stopped by the 
cock. She dies of shock, or after a few days, 
8, 11, 13, 16, 17, 29, 31, 32, 36. 

The maid's escape assured, in one way or an- 
other, the man calls to her, Your good luck : 
I would have taught you to weep for the dead 
(he had been tearing her things in the grave, 
and her shift, which she had dropped to de- 
lay his pursuit), 9. Your body would have 
been rent into as many bits as your smocks 
(a bit was found on every grave in the church- 
yard), 22, 35. I would have torn you into 
a thousand tatters. I was all but saved, and 
have had to come so far ! Then he warned 
her never again to long for the dead, 42. I 
would have taught you to disturb the dead, 
41. It was her luck, for she would have been 
torn into a thousand bits, like her apron. Let 

* 30, 81, 32, 50, have curious popular traits. In 30, 32, 
the dead man (men) within being unable to render aid, the 
lover calls to yarn spun on Thursday (on Thursday after 
the evening meal) to open. A watchman tells the yarn to 
stay where it was hanged ; the girl cuts the skein in two 
with an axe. In 31 there is no corpse in the house; the 

this be a warning to you, says Our Lady to 
the girl, nevejr to mourn so much again for 
the dead, for he had a hard journey to make, 

43. He tore a portion of her gown into a 
thousand pieces, and laid one on every grave, 
saying, You were not so much a simpleton 
to mourn for me as I was not to tear you to 
pieces, 30. There was on every grave a bit 
of her gown, from which we may see how it 
would have fared with her, 31. 

Resentment for the disturbance caused by 
the maid's excessive grief is expressed also 
in 6, Since you have wept so much for me, 
creep into my grave ; in 12, she has troubled 
him by her perpetual weeping, he will take 
her where he dwells ; in 20, Another time 
do not long for my dead body ; in 27, You 
have mourned for me, now sleep with me ; in 
32, the maid's continual weeping is a burden 
to her lover in his grave. In 40, the remon- 
strance is affectionate and like (suspiciously 
like) that of Helgi and of Sir Aage (II, 235). 

In some copies the story closes at the grave, 
2, 10, 19, 23, 28, 40, 43, 44, 47, 49, 51, 52, 
54, 56, 58 ; many of these, however, are brief 
and defective. The man lays himself in the 
grave, which closes, she flies, 23 ; he descends 
into the grave and tries to draw her in by her 
apron, the apron tears, she faints, and is found 
lying on the ground the next morning, 43 ; 
he descends into the grave and tries to draw 
her after him, she resists, the grave closes, 
and she remains without, 47 ; he disappears, 
she is left alone, 49, 52. She goes into the 
grave, remains there, and dies, 10 ; the grave 
opens, he pushes or drags her in, 54; both 
disappear in the grave, 56 ; the horse rushes 
three times round in a ring, and they are 
nowhere, 53 ; she is killed by the man, her 
flesh torn off, and her bones broken, 51. 

The maid finds herself in a strange land, 

44, 47 ; she is among people of different lan- 
guage, 26, 28, 29, 45 ; nobody knows of the 
place which she says she came from, 27 ; she 

lover calls on a ball of thread and a broom, r ohne Seele ' 
(with no centre-piece, no handle) to open. In 50 the dead 
man within cannot help the man without because a broom is 
standing on its handle ; so the man without calls on a skein 
of yarn, a pot-hook, a ball of thread, to open. For various 
reasons these appeals prove bootless. 



is a long time in getting home, and nobody 
knows her then, 25; she is years in going 
home (from two to nine), 20, 22, 28, 46. 

The man and woman are a married pair in 
2, 8, 23, 44, 45 ; in 44, the woman has mar- 
ried a second time, contrary to a mutual agree- 
ment. 10, 12, 16, 18, 19, have a taint of vam- 
pirism, and in 2 a stake is driven through 
the body of the man after he has returned to 
his grave, as was done with vampires. 

In 81, the maid throws herself from the 
horse, the man, holding to her gown, tears off 
a large piece of it, and bits of the gown are 
found on every grave the next day ; so in the 
Cornish tale, when the maid is pulled from 
the horse, the man retains a portion of her 
gown, and a piece is found on his grave. In 
27, the maid's kerchief is found in the man's 
grave, and serves to corroborate her story ; so 
in the Suffolk tale, with the handkerchief 
which the maid had bound round the man's 
head. 55, a brief and corrupted copy, com- 
pares very well with the Suffolk tale for 
pointlessness. The man comes on his father's 
horse, takes the girl on, and rides with her 
all round the village. Towards morning he 
brings the maid back to her chamber, and the 
horse to the stable, and goes where he came 

Ballads. Little Russian. 1, 2, Golova- 
tsky, I, 83, No 40 ; II, 708, No 12. Slovenian. 
8, Valjavec, as before, preface, p. IV. Po- 
lish. 4, Grudzinski, p. 25, 'Helene,' Gali- 
cia; 5, Max Waldau (G. v. Hauenschild) 
in Deutsches Museum, 1851, I, 136, No 5, 
Kreis Ratibor, Oberschlesien ; 6, Mickiewicz, 
'Ucieczka' (Works, Paris, 1880, I, 74), 
based on a ballad sung in Polish in Lithuania. 
Bohemian, Moravian. 7, Erben, 1864, p. 
471; 8, BartoS, 1882, p. 150; 9, 10, SuBil, 
p. 791, p. Ill, No 112. Gypsy. 11, Wlis- 
locki, as before, p. 104, South Hungary. 
German. 12, Schroer, Ein Ausflug nach Gott- 
schee, Wiener Akademie, Sitzb. d. phil.-hist. 
Classe, LX, 235.* 

* For German versions of most of the Slavic pieces, Grud- 
rifiski, as before, p. 27 ; Wollner, as before, pp. 250, 255 f., 
258 ; Krek, as before, p. 652. 7 also in A. Waldau's Boh- 
mische Granaten, II, 254, No 354. 

'Lenore ' in Wunderhorn, II, 19, 1808, ia to be rejected 
as spurious, on internal and external evidence. See Prohle, 

As I have already said, the ballads seem 
less original than the tales ; that is, to have 
been made from tales, as * The Suffolk Mira- 
cle ' was. 5, 7, 10, are of the vulgar sort, like 
the English piece, 7 having perhaps received 
literary touches. In none of them does the 
maid fly and the man pursue ; the catastrophe 
is at the grave. 

The lovers have sworn mutual faith, 6, 10 ; 
the maid wishes that the man may come back, 
dead or living, 3, 10, 12 ; even from hell, 6. 

The man has fallen in war, 1, 2, 6, 7, 8, 9, 

A spell is employed to bring him back, 1, 
2, 6, 9. 

He comes on a horse, 3, 4, 6-8, 11, 12 ; in 
a wagon, 5, 10 ; on foot, 1, 2, 9. 

The verses found in the tales occur in 3 
(three times), 4, 5, 6, 12 ; in 10, a voice from 
the clouds cries, What hast thou done, to be 
going off with a dead man ? 

She is taken to a graveyard. The grave 
closes over the man, she is left without, 3, 5, 
8, 10, 12 ; both go into the grave, 4, 6, 7, 11. 

She breathes out her soul on the grave, 3 ; 
she finds herself in the morning in a strange 
land, of different speech, is seven years in 
going home, 12. 

1, 2, 9, are varieties of one ballad. The 
man asks the maid to go out with him to the 
dark wood, 1; to the cherry-tree (trees), 2, 9. 
After a time, he tells her to go back, he is no 
longer her lover, but a devil ; she turns to 
dust, 1 ; the cock crows, he tells her to go 
home and not look round, to thank God for 
the cock, because he should have cut off her 
head, he is no longer her lover but 'a devil, 2. 
In 9, the man says his head aches badly, for, 
after mouldering six years, .she had forced 
him to rise by her spell. The maid tells 
her mother that her lover is buried under the 
cherry-trees, mass is said for him ; he returns 
to give thanks for his redemption from hell.f 

Reverting now to the English tales, we 
perceive that the Cornish is a very fairly well- 

G. A. Burger, Sein Leben und seine Dichtungen, 1856, p. 
100 f. 

t In 11 we have to do with a married pair, as in several 
of the tales. In tale 44 the woman has been twice married, 
and her first husband comes for her. 


preserved specimen of the extensive cycle 
which has been epitomized. Possibly the full 
moonshine is a relic of the weird verses which 
occur in BO many copies. The hemp-seed rite 
is clearly a displacement and perversion of 
the spell resorted to in five Slavic and two 
German copies to compel the return of the 
dead man. It has no sense otherwise, for the 
maid did not need to know who was to be her 
lover ; she was already bound to one for life 
and death. The ballad was made up from 
an imperfect and confused tradition. In 
pointlessness and irrationality it easily finds 
a parallel in the 55th tale, as already re- 
marked. The hood and safeguard brought 
by the ghost represent the clothes which the 
girl takes with her in numerous copies. Re- 
membering the 9th ballad, where the revenant 
complains of a headache, caused by the pow- 
erful enchantment which had been brought to 
bear on him, we may quite reasonably sup- 
pose that the headache in ' The Suffolk Mira- 
cle,' utterly absurd to all appearance, was in 
fact occasioned by a spell which has dropped 
away from the Suffolk story, but is retained 
in the Cornish. 

M. Paul S^billot has recently (in 1879) 
taken down, in that part of Brittany where 
French is exclusively spoken, a tale which is 
almost a repetition of the English ballad, and 
which for that reason has been kept by itself, 
' Les Deux Fiance's,' Literature orale de la 
Haute-Bretagne, p. 197. A young man and 
a maid have plighted themselves to marry 
and to be faithful to one another even after 
death. The young man, who is a sailor, goes 
on a voyage, and dies without her learning 
the fact. One night he leaves his tomb, and 
comes on a white mare, taken from her father's 
stable, to get the girl, who is living at a 
farm at some distance from her own home. 
The girl mounts behind him : as they go he 
says, The moon is bright, death is riding with 
you, are you not afraid ? and she answers, I 
am not afraid, since you are with me. He 
complains of a headache ; she ties her hand- 
kerchief round his head. They arrive at the 
girl's home ; she gets down and knocks. To 
an inquiry, Who is there ? she replies, Your 

daughter, whom you sent for by my husband 
that is to be. I have come on horseback with 
him, and lent him my handkerchief on the 
way, since he had none. He is now in the 
stable attending to the horse. They go to 
the stable and find the mare in a sweat, but 
no man. The girl then understands that her 
lover is dead, and she dies, too. They open 
the man's grave to bury the two together, 
and find the girl's handkerchief on his head. 
This is the English ballad over again, almost 
word for word, with the difference that the 
lover dies at sea, and that the substance of the 
notable verses is preserved. 

In marked and pleasing contrast with most 
of the versions of the tale with which we have 
been dealing, in so many copies grotesque and 
ferocious, with a lover who, from impulses not 
always clear, from resentment sometimes that 
his comfort has been disturbed by her unre- 
strained grief, sometimes that she has been 
implicated in forcing him by magic to return 
to the world which he had done with, is bent 
on tearing his lass to pieces, is a dignified and 
tender ballad, in which the lovers are replaced 
by brother and sister. This ballad is found 
among the Servians, Bulgarians, Greeks, and 
Albanians, and is very common among the 
Greeks, both of the mainland and the islands. 

Servian. Karad2i<5, II, 38, No 9, 'Yovan 
and Yelitza;' Talvj, Volkslieder der Serben, 
1853, I, 295; Dozon, Chansons p. bulgares, 
p. 321 ; Bowring, Servian Popular Poetry, p. 
46. Davidovic*, pp. 10-14, * Yovo and Mara,' 
No 7 ; Krek, in Magazin f . d. Litt. d. In- u. 
Auslandes, p. 652, No 8. 

Bulgarian. Dozon, Chansons p. bulgares, 
p. 130, No 7, p. 319. Kaeanovskij, p. 120, 
No 48 ; Krek as above, p. 653 f ., No 10, 
'Lazar and Yovana.' Miladinof, 1861, 1891, 
p. 145, No 100, 'Lazar and Petkana;' Krek, 
p. 653, No 9. Miladinof, p. 817, No 200, 
4 Elm Doika ; ' Rosen, Bulgarische Volksdich- 
tungen, p. 247, No 103. 'Eiin Doina,' Po- 
pov, in Periodicesko Spisanie, II, 162, lacks 
the last half ; Krek, p. 654, No 11. ' Yana,' 
Miladinof, p. 339, No 229, Rosen, p. 116, 
No 32, diverges considerably from the others. 

Romaic, Twenty copies, including all pre- 


viously published, Polites, in AcXrcov TT}? 

K . iW^oX. *roip. T. "EXActfc*, II, 198-261, 552-67, 

1885-87. Kanellakes, Xia^ 'AvaX^a, p. 37, 

No 27, p. 58, No 49, 1890. Zwypa^ew 'Ay<^, 
I, 808, No 80, 897, No 17, 1891. ' Constan- 
tino and Arete ' (mostly). G. B. Sheridan, 
The Songs of Greece, p. 207 ; C. C. Felton, 
in English and Scottish Ballads, Boston, 1860, 
1, 807 ; Lucy M. J. Garnett, Greek Folk-Songs, 
etc., 1885, p. 126. 

Albanian. (' Garentina,' = Arete.) De 
Rada, Rapsodie, etc., p. 29 (I, xvii) ; Dozon, 
Ch. p. bulgares, p. 327, De Grazia, C. p. al- 
banesi, p. 138. Camarda, Appendice al Sag- 
gio, etc., p. 98 (fragment, last half), p. 102. 
Dora d' Istria, Revue dos Deux Mondes, 
LXIII, 407. La Calabria, II, 55, 1890. 
Tale, Metkos, 'AA/Wuo? McXwo-a, p. 189, No 
12, translated in Dozon, Contes albanais, p. 

A mother has nine sons and an only daugh- 
ter. The daughter is sought in marriage ; 
the mother and eight of her sons wish to 
match her in their neighborhood, but the 
youngest son (whom it will be convenient to 
call Constantine) has his way,, and she is 
given to a suitor from a distant country (often 
Babylon). The brothers are to visit their 
sister often (Slavic); Constantine promises 
to bring her to his mother should there be 
special occasion. A fatal year coroes, and all 
the brothers die of the plague (in a few cases 
they are killed in war). The mother chants 
laments at the graves of the eight, strews 
flowers, burns candles, gives alms for their 
souls; at Constantino's grave she tears her 
hair. She curses Constantine for the distant 
marriage, and demands of him her daughter. 
God takes pity (on mother, sister, or son). 
The stone over his grave (his coffin, a board 
for the grave, his shroud, a cloud) is turned 
into a horse ; he goes to his sister and informs 
her that she is wanted by her mother. The 
sister will put on gold for joy or black for 

* No filiation is implied in the above arrangement of the 

grief ; she is to come as she stands. (He tries 
to prevent her going, in the Servian copies, 
where his object is to pay the promised visit.) 
On the way the sister notes that Constantino 
is gray with mould, he smells of earth, his 
skin is black, his eyes are dull, his hair is 
dusty, his hair or teeth fallen out; why is 
this ? He has been at work in the ground, 
has been building nine white houses, there 
has been dust, wind, and rain on the road, he 
has had long watches, sore sickness. He 
smells of incense, too ; that 4s because he has 
been at church lately. Birds call out in hu- 
man voice as they pass, What wonder is this, 
the living travelling with the dead ! (Thrice 
in Romaic, 9, 10, and the Albanian tale, 
twice in Romaic 13.) The sister asks Con- 
stantine if he hears what the birds are saying ; 
he hears, they are birds, let them talk. They 
near their mother's house ; a church is hard 
by. Constantine bids his sister go on ; he 
must say a prayer in the church, or pay a 
votive candle, find a ring which he lost 
there, see to his horse ; he disappears. The 
house is locked, the windows shut, there is 
every sign of desolation and neglect The 
daughter knocks ; the mother, from within, 
cries, A vaunt, Death! I have no more chil- 
dren ! The daughter cries, It is I.f Who 
brought you ? Constantine. Constantino is 
dead ; (has been dead three days, forty days, 
five months, twelve years I) The mother 
opens, they die in a mutual embrace (the mo- 
ther dies, one dies within, one without). 

*Le FrSre de Lait,' Villeraarque*, Barzaz 
Breiz, No 22, p. 163, ed. 1867, has no claim 
to'be associated with these ballads, the only 
feature in which it has similarity not being 
genuine. Compare 'La Femme aux deux 
Maris,' Luzel, Gwerziou Breiz-Izel, 1, 266-71, 
two versions, and II, 165-69, two more ; and 
see Luzel, De Pauthenticite* des chants du 
Barzaz-Breiz, p. 39. 

t The mother demands tokens of her identity, Romaic 
11, 12 SI, 22. Albanian 4, 5. Of. H, 215. 



1 A WONDER stranger ne'r was known 
Then what I now shall treat upon. 
In Suffolk there did lately dwell 

A farmer rich and known full well. 

2 He had a daughter fair and bright, 
On whom he plac'd his chief delight ; 
Her beauty was beyond compare, 
She was both virtuous and fair. 

3 A young man there was living by, 
Who was so charmed with her eye 
That he could never be at rest, 
He was with love so much possest. 

4 He made address to her, and she 
Did grant him love immediately ; 
"Which when her father came to hear, 
He parted her and her poor dear. 

5 Forty miles distant was she sent, 
Unto his brother's, with intent 
That she should there so long remain 
Till she had chang'd her mind again. 

6 Hereat this young man sadly grievd, 
But knew not how to be relievd ; 
He sighd and sobd continually 
That his true love he could not see. 

7 She by no means could to him send 
Who was her heart's espoused friend ; 
He sighd, she grievd, but all in vain, 
For she confin'd must still remain. 

8 He mournd so much that doctor's art 
Could give no ease unto his heart ; 
Who was so strang[e]ly terrified, 
That in short time for love he dyed. 

9 She that from him was sent away 
Knew nothing of his dying-day, 
But constant still she did remain ; 
To love the dead was then in vain. 

10 After he had in grave been laid 
A month or more, unto this maid 
He comes about middle of the night, 
Who joyd to see her heart's delight 

11 Her father's horse, which well she knew, 
Her mother's hood and safeguard too, 
He brought with him to testifie 

Her parents' order he came by. 

12 Which when her unckle understood, 
He hop't it would be for her good, 
And gave consent to her straightway 
That with him she should come away. 

13 When she was got her love behind, 
They passd as swift as any wind, 
That in two hours, or little more, 
He brought her to her father's door. 

14 But as they did this great haste make, 
He did complain his head did ake ; 
Her handkerchief she then took out, 
And tyed the same his head about. 

15 And unto him she thus did say : 
1 Thou art as cold as any clay ; 

When we come home, a fire wee '1 have ; ' 
But little dreamt he went to grave. 

16 Soon were they at her father's door, 
And after she ne'r see him more ; 

' I 'le set the horse up/ then he said, 
And there he left this harmless maid. 

17 She knockt, and strait a man he cryed, 

< Who 's there ? ' "T is I,' she then replyed ; 
Who wondred much her voice to hear, 
And was possest with dread and fear. 

18 Her father he did tell, and then 
He stared like an affrighted man : 
Down stairs he ran, and when he see her, 
Cry'd out, My child, how cam'st thou here ? 

19 ' Pray, sir, did you not send for me, 
By such a messenger ? ' said she : 
Which made his hair stare on his head, 
As knowing well that he was dead. 

20 * Where is he ? ' then to her he said ; 
' He 's in the stable,' quoth the maid. 
' Go in,' said he, ' and go to bed ; 

I 'le see the horse well littered.' 

21 He stared about, and there could hee 
No shape of any mankind see, 

But found his horse all on a sweat ; 
Which made him in a deadly fret 

22 His daughter he said nothing to, 

Nor no one else, though well they knew 
That he was dead a month before, 
For fear of grieveing her full sore. 



23 Her father to his father went 
Who was deceasd, with this intent, 
To tell him what his daughter said ; 
So both came hack unto this maid. 

24 They askd her, and she still did say 
'T was he that then brought her away ; 
Which when they heard they were amaz'd, 
And on each other strang[e]ly gaz'd. 

25 A handkerchief she said she tyed 
About his head, and that they tryed ; 
The sexton they did speak unto, 
That he the grave would then undo. 

26 Affrighted then they did behold 
His body turning into mould, 

And though he had a month been dead, 
This kercheif was about his head. 

27 This thing unto her then they told, 
And the whole truth they did unfold ; 
She was thereat so terrified 

And grievd, she quickly after dyed. 

28 Part not true love, you rich men, then ; 
But, if they be right honest men 

Your daughters love, give them their way, 
For force oft breeds their lives' decay. 

The Suffolk Miracle, or, A relation of a young man 
who a month after his death appeared to his 
sweetheart and carryed her behind him fourty 
miles in two hours time and was never seen after 
but in the grave. 

To the tune of My bleeding heart, etc. 

London : Printed for W. Thackery and T. Passen- 
ger. [1689. The date added by Wood.] 

Boxburghe and Crawford : Printed by and for A. 
Melbourne], and sold by the booksellers of Pye- 
corner and London-bridge. 

Pepys: Printed for F. C[oles], T. V[ere], J. 
W[right], J. C[lark], W. T[hackeray], T. P[as- 

a. 14 8 , 25 1 . handcherchief. 

16 4 . he set (0. B. left). 17 a . whose. 
22 1 . too. 24 4 . others. 25*. undoe. 

b. 3 1 . There was a young man. 
4 1 . addresses. 4 8 . But when. 
16*. he set. 19 1 . did not you. 
19*. hair stand. 27 s . did wanting. 




a. Wood, 401, fol. 44, Bodleian Library. 

b. Douce, I, 109, Bodleian Library. 

o. Roxburghe, I, 176, 177; Chappell, Roxburghe Bal- 
lads, I, 529. 

THE ballad is also in the Pepys collection, 
II, 129, No 118, and there are two copies in 
the Euing collection, Nos 273, 274. 

The following entries occur in the Station- 
ers' Registers: 

1564, September or October, William Gref- 
feth licenced to print a book intituled * The 
story of Kynge Henry the 1113 th and the Tan- 
ner of Tamowthe.' Arber, I, 264. 

1586, August 1, Edward White, 'A merie 



songe of the Kinge and the Tanner.' Arber, 
II, 451.* 

1600, October 6, William White, by the 
consent of Widow Danter, * A merye, pleas- 
ant and delectable history betwene Kinge 
Edward the IHJ* and a Tanner of Tarn- 
worthe,' and, by like consent of the Widow 
Danter, "the bal[l]ad of the same matter 
that was printed by her husband John Dan- 
ter." Arber, IH, 173. 

1615, December 9, John Trundle, for a 
ballad of 'The King and the Tanner.' Ar- 
ber, III, 679. 

1624, December 14, Master Pavier, John 
Wright, and others, a ballad, ' King and Tan- 
ner.' Arber, IV, 131. 

The ballad mentioned in the entry under 
the year 1600 is unquestionably our ballad, 
or an earlier form of it. No copy from the 
first half of the seventeenth century is known 
to be preserved. The "delectable history" 
entered under the same date is extant in an 
edition of 1596, printed by John Danter, and 
in one of 1613, printed by William White, f 
The ballad, as we have it, was made by 
abridging the fifty-six stanzas of the history 
to thirty-nine, with other changes. The his- 
tory itself has its predecessor, and, as Ritson 
remarks, its undoubted original, in * The King 
and the Barker/ f between which and the 
history, though the former has come down to 
us in a sadly mutilated condition, and has been 
freely treated in the remodelling, there still 
remain a few verbal correspondences. Sev- 

* 1599, August 28, two plays, being the first and second 
part of [Thomas Heywood's] ' Edward the ITU* and the 
Tanner of Tamworth/ etc. Arber, HI, 147. 

t See an appendix to this ballad. White's edition has 
verbal variations from the earlier, and supplies three lines 
and a half-line which have been cutoff in the Bodleian copy 
of Danter. Heber had a copy of ' King Edward 4th and 
the Tanner/ printed by Edward Alffle (1602-23), whether 
the " history " or the " ballad " does not appear 

t Printed by Ritson, Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry, 
1791, p. 57. Given in an appendix. 

" Seemingly," says Mr Chappell, " not one bound up 
with the collection of ballads." 

Selden, in the second edition of his Titles of Honor (for 
to he chooses to spell), 1631, p. 836, remarks Nor is that 
old pamphlet of the Tanner of Tamworth and King Edward 
the Fourth so contemptible bnt that wee may thence note 
alio an observable passage wherein the me of making 

eral good points are added in the history, and 
one or two dropped. 

6 King Edward the Fourth and Tanner of 
Tamworth,' in Percy's Reliques, 1765, II, 75, 
was compounded from Banter's history, 1596, 
and a copy " in one sheet folio, without date, 
in the Pepys collection." 

King Edward, while out a-hunting, sees a 
tanner coming along the way, and takes a 
fancy to accost him. Leaving his lords under 
a tree, he rides forward and asks the tanner 
the way to Drayton Basset ; the tanner di- 
rects him to turn in at the first pair of gal- 
lows. The king presses for a civil answer ; 
the tanner bids him be gone ; he himself has 
been riding all day and is fasting. The king 
promises meat and drink of the best for his 
company to Drayton Basset ; the tanner makes 
game of the offer, and tries to get away, but 
in vain. The king now proposes to change 
his horse for the tanner's mare ; the tanner 
demands a noble to boot, nor shall a cowhide 
which he is riding on go with the mare. The 
cowhide thrown on to the king's saddle 
frightens the horse and the tanner is pitched 
off ; after this he will not keep the horse, but 
the king in turn exacts a noble to boot. Then 
the king sounds his horn, and his attendants 
come riding in ; the tanner takes the whole 
party to be strong thieves, but when he sees 
the suite fall on their knees he would be glad 
to be out of the company. 'A collar I a col- 
lar ! ' cries the king (to make the tanner es- 
quire, but this is inadvertently left out in the 

Esquires by giving collars is expressed. He then quotes 
two stanzas from the history 

1 A collar ' a coller ! ' our king gan cry ; 

Quoth the tanner, It will breed Borrow ; 
For after a coller commeth a halter, 
I trow I shall be hangd to morrow. 

'Be not afraid, tanner,' said our king; 

' I tell thee, BO mought I thee, 
Lo, here I make thee the best esquire 
That is in the North Countrie I ' 

(This passage is not in the first edition, of 1614, as I am in- 
formed by Mr Macmath, who has copied it for me.) Percy 
says that he has " restored " one of his stanzas from the last 
of these two. The restoration might as well have been 
made from Danter's history, which he was using. There is 
a trifling variation from Danter in the fourth verse, as given 
by Selden and repeated by Percy, which is found in White's 



ballad). ' After a collar comes a halter/ ex- 
claims the unhappy tanner. But the king is 
graciously pleased to pay for the sport which 
he has had by conferring on the tanner an 
estate of three hundred pound a year ; * in 
return for which his grateful liegeman en- 
gages to give him clouting-leather for his 
shoon if ever he comes to Tamworth. 

Next to adventures of Robin Hood and his 
men, the most favorite topic in English pop- 
ular poetry is the chance-encounter of a king, 
unrecognized as such, with one of his hum- 
bier subjects. Even in the Robin Hood cycle 
we have one of these meetings (in the seventh 
and eighth fits of the Little Gest), but there 
the king visits Robin Hood deliberately and 
in disguise, whereas in the other tales (ex- 
cept the latest) the meeting is accidental. 

The most familiar of these tales are ' The 
King and the Tanner/ and ' The King and 
the Miller;' the former reaching back be- 
yond the sixteenth century, the latter per- 
haps not beyond the seventeenth, but mod- 
elled upon tales of respectable antiquity, of 
which there is a specimen from the early 
years of the thirteenth century.f 

In the history or " ballad " of 4 The King and 
the Miller/ or, more specifically, ' King Henry 
Second and the Miller of Mansfield,' the king, 
while hunting in Sherwood, loses his nobles 
and is overtaken by night ; he meets a miller, 
and after some colloquy is granted a lodging ; 
is entertained with bag-puddings and apple- 
pies, to which is added a course of ' light-foot,' 
a pasty of the king's deer, two or three of 
which, the miller tells his guest in confidence, 
he always keeps in store. The nobles recover 

the king at the miller's the next morning; 
the miller looks to be hanged when he sees 
them fall on their knees; the king dubs him 
knight. The king has relished his night with 
the miller so much that he determines to have 
more sport out of him, and commands the 
attendance of the new knight with his lady 
and his son Dick at court on St. George's day. 
The three jet down to the king's hall on their 
mill-horses. In the course of the dinner the 
king expresses a wish for some of their light- 
foot; Dick tells him that it is knavery to eat 
of it and then betray it. Sir John Cockle 
and Dick dance with the court-ladies, and the 
buffoonery ends by the king's making the 
miller overseer of Sherwood, with a stipend 
of three hundred pound, to which he attaches 
an injunction to steal no more deer. J 

Of the older poems, < John the Reeve ' (910 
w.) may be noticed first, because it has a 
nearly complete story, and also resemblance 
in details with * The King and the Tanner/ or 
4 The King and the Miller/ which two others 
of perhaps earlier date have not. ' John the 
Reeve ' is now extant only in the Percy MS. 
(p. 357, Hales and Furnivall, II, 660). Since 
there had been but three kings of the name 
of Edward (v. 16), it must have been com- 
posed, as Mr Hales has remarked, between 
the death of Edward III and the accession 
of Edward IV, 1376-1461, and forms of lan- 
guage show that the Percy text must be nearer 
the end than the beginning of this period. 

Edward Longshanks, while hunting, is sep- 
arated from all his train but a bishop and 
an earl. Night comes on, and they know not 
where they are, and the weather is cold and 

* ' The King and the Barker* is less extravagant and 
more rational here ; the king simply orders the barker ' a 
hundred shilling in his puree/ Bu both the esquiring 
(knighting) and the estate are found in still older poems 
which remain to be mentioned. 

t A pervasive boorishness, with some coarse pleasantry, 
distinguishes the seventeenth - century tales disadvanta- 
geonsly from the older ones. 

t There is an entry of 'Miller and King' (among 128 
ballads), December 14, 1624 ; another entry, June 80, 1625 : 
Stationers' Registers, Arber, IV, 131, 143. The broadside 
is in many of the collections ' A pleasant ballad of King 
Henry second and the Miller of Mansfield/ Roxburghe, I, 
178, 228, 1H, 853, the first reprinted by Chappell, Rox- 

burghe Ballads, I, 537 ; Pepys, I, 528, No 272; Bagford, 
II, 25 ; Wood, 401, fol. 5 b, A pleasant new ballad of the 
Miller of Mansfield in Sherwood and E. Henry the Sec- 
ond/ Wood, 254, iv, ' The pleasant history of the Miller of 
Mansfield/ etc., dated 1655; Crawford, No 491. Also, 
'Kinge and Miller/ Percy MS., p. 235, Hales and Furni- 
vall, H, 147 (see Appendix) ; Percy's Reliques, 1765, m, 
179, the MS. copy "with corrections" from the Pepyi. 
Not in the ballad-stanza, 

John the Reeve is mentioned (in conjunction with Rauf 
Coilyear) by G. Douglas, Patfce of Honour, 1501, Small, I, 
65, v. 3, and by Dunbar, about 1510, Small, 1, 105, v. 38 ; 
John the Reeve again by Lindsay, The Complaynt of th* 
Papingo, 1530, Chalmers, 1, 318. 



rough. As they stand considering which way 
to torn, a stout carl rides by ; they beg him to 
take them to some harbor. The fellow will at 
first hare nothing to do with them, but finally 
shows a disposition to be accommodating if 
they will swear to do him no harm ; all that 
he can promise them, however, is beef and 
bread, bacon a year old, and sour ale ; as for 
a good fire, which the king would particularly 
like, they cannot have that, for fuel is dear. 
They ride on to a town, light at a comely hall, 
and are taken into a room with a bright fire 
and candles lighted. The carl, who has al- 
ready described himself as John the Reeve, 
husbandman and the king's bondman, inquires 
of the earl who the long fellow may be, and 
who the other in the Bark : the first, he is told, 
is Piers, the queen's chief falconer, the other a 
poor chaplain, and the earl himself a sumpter- 
man. 'Proud lads, and I trow penniless,' is 
John's comment ; he himself, though not so 
fine, has a thousand pound and more. They 
move on to the hall, and are civilly received by 
the goodwife. John marshals the company, 
now increased by two daughters of the house, 
and by Hodge and Hob, two neighbors, setting 
the three strangers and his wife at the head 
of the table, his daughters farther down, and 
taking the end himself with his neighbors. 
Bean-bread, rusty bacon, lean salt beef a year 
old, and sour ale are brought in, and every one 
has a mess. The king murmurs, John says, 
Thou gettest no other; the king coaxes, 
John will not give them a morsel unless they 
swear never to tell of hi to Edward. All 
three pledge their troth, and then come in 
fine bread, wine red and white, in silver cups, 
the boar's head, capons, venison, everything 
that king could have or crave. After the 
supper, John, Hob, and Hodge perform a rus- 
tic dance ; King Edward (who gets his shins 
kicked) never had so merry a night. In the 
morning they hear mass and eat a good break- 
fast, for which they promise warison, and 
then the king takes leave and rides to Wind- 
sor. The lords have a good story to tell the 
queen; she prays the king to send for the 

* Reprinted fa Lung's Select Remains of the Ancient 
Popular Poetry of Scotland, from the edition of St An- 
drews, 1572 ; thence in Charlemagne Romances, No 6, ed. 

reve. John is convinced that he has been 
beguiled by his guests, but arms himself with 
such as he has, and, after a huge libation with 
Hodge and Hob, sets forth. The porter at 
the palace will not let him in ; John knocks 
him over the crown and rides into the hall. 
Neither before this nor then will he vail hat 
or hood. [The passage in which the reve dis- 
covers that Piers falconer was the king has 
dropped out.] John bears himself sturdily ; 
the king can punish him, but the king is hon- 
orable and will keep his word, and may re- 
member the promised warison. The king 
gives thanks for the hot capons and good 
wine, the queen urges that the reve should be 
promoted. The king, nothing loath, makes 
John a gentleman, and gives him his manor, 
a hundred pound and a tun of wine yearly, 
then takes a collar and creates him knight. 
John blenches a little at the collar; he has 
heard that after a collar comes a rope ; but he 
recovers his nerve after supping off a gallon 
of wine at the table. It is now the bishop's 
turn to do something ; he promises his good 
offices for John's two sons and two daughters ; 
these, in the end, are well disposed of, and 
Hodge and Hob are made freemen. John 
ever after keeps open board for all guests that 
God sends him. 

The tale of Rauf Coilyear,* shortly after 
1480, has for its personages Charles the Great 
and a charcoal-burner. Charles, on his way 
to Paris from St Thomas, is isolated from his 
cortege by a fierce storm ; night has come on 
and he is in a strait for shelter. By good 
luck Rauf makes his appearance, a churl of 
prodigious inurbanity, but ready to take in 
any good fellow that is * will of his way.' 
Arrived at his house, Rauf calls to his wife to 
make a fire and kill capons. When supper is 
dight, the guesj; is told to give the goodwife his 
hand and take the head of the table. Charles 
hangs back ; the churl, who has once before 
criticised his manners, hits him under the ear 
and sends him sprawling to the floor. There 
is a plenteous supper, in which venison is not 
lacking. The carl tells the king that the 

8. J. Heritage, Early English Text Society, 1888. Aa to 
the date, see Max Tonndorf, Rauf Coilyear, Halle a. 8. 
1893, p. 13 ff. 



foresters have threatened to send him to Paris 
for deer stealing, but he means to have enough 
for himself and a guest in spite of them. Then 
after wine they sit by the fire and the collier 
tells many a tale. Charles is affable ; Rauf 
asks him his name and where he lives ; Wy- 
mond is his name, and he lives with the queen, 
in fact, is of her bed-chamber ; if Rauf will 
come to court he shall have the better sale for 
his fuel. Charles is put to bed in a hand- 
some room, and rises so early that he has to 
waken his host to take leave. He is urged 
not to go so soon, but to-morrow is Yule and 
every officer of the court must be at his post. 
He wishes to pay the goodwife for her good 
entertainment ; Rauf will not hear of such a 
thing. Come to court to-morrow, says the 
king; I want coals myself. Roland and 
Oliver and a thousand more have been wan- 
dering all night in search of their lord, and 
thank God when they recover him on the road 
to Paris. Rauf sets out for the court with 
his coals, according to appointment ; the king 
has him in mind, and sends out Roland to 
bring in such man as he may meet. Roland 
finds the collier intractable, and has to return 
without him. The king is displeased, and 
Roland is on the point of going again, when 
he learns from a porter that there is a man 
with a horse and baskets at the gate who will 
not be turned away. Rauf is let in ; he gives 
his horse in charge to the porter, and pushes 
into the hall to find Wymond, and after be- 
ing shoved about a good deal, gets sight of 
him, dressed in cloth of gold, and clearly a 
much greater man than he had called himself ; 
he is daunted by all the splendor ; if he could 
but get away, nothing should bring him to 
the court again. The king then tells the 
story of his night at Rauf s, not pretermit- 

* So far 767 verses of 975 : the rest is not pertinent and 
is very poor stuff. ' Rauf Coilyear ' is a clever piece, but I 
cannot think with Mr Herrtage that it is " quite original " 
Its exaggerations suggest a second hand ; the author means 
to pepper higher with his churl's discourtesy than had been 
done before. The 'marshalling' in 183-86 recalls 'John 
the Reeve/ 342-50. 

t Printed in Hartehorne's Ancient Metrical Tales, p. 35. 
Professor Kittredge has called my attention to a stanza of 
Occleve's which shows that the belief that Edward III went 

ting the carl's rough behavior. The lords 
laugh, the knights are for hanging him ; the 
king thinks he owes better thanks, and dubs 
Rauf knight, assigns him three hundred a 
year, and promises him the next fief that falls 

'King Edward Third and the Shepherd,* 
MS. of about 1450, Cambridge University 
Library, Ff. 5. 48 b, 1090 w.f 

The king, while taking his pleasure by a 
river-Bide one morning, meets Adam, a shep- 
herd, and engages in talk with him. The 
shepherd complains of the king's men, who 
help themselves to his beasts, sheep, hens, 
and geese, and at best pay with a tally. Ed- 
ward is concerned for the king's good fame ; 
he is a merchant, but has a son with the 
queen who can get any boon of her, and the 
shepherd shall have what is due him. That 
is four pound two, says Adam, and you shall 
have seven shillings for your service. It is 
arranged that the shepherd shall come to 
court the next day and ask the porter for 
Joly Robyn. The king is kept a long time 
by the shepherd's stories, but not too long, 
for when he is invited to come home and 
take a bit to eat he accepts with pleasure. 
They see many a coney, hart, and hind, on 
their way, and the king tries to put up Adam, 
who has been bragging of his skill with the 
sling, to kill a few; but the man, as he says, 
knows very well the danger of poaching, and 
never touches anything but wild fowl. Of 
these they have all sorts at their meal, and 
two-penny ale. Before they set to drinking, 
Adam instructs the king in an indispensable 
form : he that drinks first must call out ' pas- 
silodion,' and the respondent 'berafrynd,' 
Edward praises the dinner, but owns to a 
hankering for a little game. Can 'you keep a 

about in disguise among his subjects prevailed not long after 

the king's death. 

O worthy kyng benigne, Edwarde the laste, 
Thow hadeat ofte in thyne hart a drede impressede 
Whiche that thyne humble goate fullc sore agaste, 
And to knowe yf thow cuwed were or blessede, 
Amonge the peple ofte hast thow the dressede 
Into the contrey, in symple aray alone, 
To heere what men seide of thy pereone. 

Occleve, De Regimine Principom, 
ed. Wright (Roxb. Club), p. 92. 



secret ? asks the shepherd ; indeed he can. 
Upon this assurance, Adam fetches pasties of 
rabbits and deer ; of these he is wont to kill 
more than he himself needs, and sends pres- 
ents to gentlemen and yeomen, who in return 
furnish him with bread, ale, and wine. Wine 
fallows: Edward calls 'passilodion;' Adam is 
ready with * berafrynd.' The king now takes 
leave, but before he goes the shepherd shows 
him a room underground well stored with 
venison and wine, and they have one draught 
more. The next day the shepherd goes to 
court and asks the porter for Joly Robyn. 
The king has prepared his lords for the visit, 
and directed them to call him by that name. 
Adam is paid his four pound two, and offers 
Robyn the promised seven shillings for his 
mediation. Robyn will take nothing; he 
would do much more than that for love; 
Adam must dine with him, and is placed at 
the head of a table. The king sends the 
prince to Adam for a "bout of passilodion ; 
Adam says the merchant has betrayed him, 
and wishes he were out of the place. A squire 
is now ordered to tell Adam that Joly Robyn 
is the king. Adam puts down his hood, 
which up to this time he would do for no- 
body,* falls on his knees, and cries mercy. 
The rest is wanting, but we may be certain 
that Adam was knighted and presented with 
an estate. 

'King Edward and the Hermit,' MS. Ash- 
mole 6922, of about 1460, a fragment of 522 

The king, hunting in Sherwood, follows a 
remarkably large deer till he loses himself. 
By the favor of St Julian, he discovers a 
hermitage; he asks quarters for the night; 
the hermit lives on roots and rinds, and such 
a lord would starve with him, but he yields 
to urgency. The guest must take such as he 
finds, and that is bread and cheese and thin 
drink. King Edward expresses his surprise 
that the hermit should not help himself out 

* So John the Reeve ; five or six times in each. 

t Printed in The British Bibliographer, IV, 81, thence in 
Hartshorne'a Metrical Tales, p. 293, and, with some im- 
provements from the MS., in Hazlitt's Early Popular Poetry, 
1,11. ' The King and the Hermit 'is told as 'the remans 
ays,' v. 16. It is, as Scott has explained, the source of a 

with the deer ; the hermit is much too loyal 
for that, and besides, the peril is to be con- 
sidered. Still the king presses for venison; 
no man shall know of it ; the hermit, con- 
vinced that he is safe with his company, 
brings out venison, salt and fresh, and then 
a four-gallon pot. The king is taught to 
drink in good form ; when one calls * fusty 
bandyas,' the other must come in with 
'stryke pantere;' and thus they lead holy 
life. Such cheer deserves requital; if the 
hermit will come to court, where his guest is 
living, he has only to ask for Jack Fletcher, 
and they two will have the best that is there ; 
the 'frere,' though not eager to close with 
this proposal, says he will venture a visit. To 
show Jack more of his privity he takes him 
into his bedroom and gives him a bow to 
draw ; Jack can barely stir the string ; the 
frere hauls to the head an arrow an ell long. 
Then, wishing that he had a more perfect 
reliance on Jack's good faith, the hermit ex- 
hibits his stock of venison, after which they 
go back to their drinking, and keep it up till 
near day. They part in the morning; the 
king reminds his host of the promised visit, 
and rides straight for home. His knights, 
who have been blowing horns for him all 
night in the forest, are made happy by hear- 
ing his bugle, and return to the town. This 
is all that is preserved, but again we may be 
confident that King Edward made the hermit 
an abbot. 

That the hermit had some habilitation for 
such promotion appears from a story told by 
Giraldus Cambrensis two hundred years be- 
fore the apparent date of any of these poemB.f 

King Henry Second, separated from his 
men in hunting, came to a Cistercian house 
at nightfall and was hospitably received, not 
as king (for this they knew not), but as a 
knight of the king's house and retinue. After 
a handsome supper, the abbot asked his help 
in some business of the fraternity on which 

charming chapter (the sixteenth of the first Yolnxne) of 
' Ivanhoe.' There are many agreements with ' The King 
and the Shepherd/ 

} Giraldi Cambrensis Opera, ed. Brewer, Speculum EC- 
clen, IV, 218-16, about 1316. 


he was to visit the king the next day, and this 
was readily promised. The abbot, to improve 
his guest's good disposition, had his health 
drunk in many a cup of choice wine, after 
the English fashion ; but instead of the cus- 
tomary salutation or challenge ' wes heil I ' * 
called ' pril ! ' The king, who would have 
answered ' drinc heil ! ' was at a loss how to 
respond ; he was told that ' wril ! ' was the 
word. And so with ' pril ' and 4 wril ' they 
pursued their compotation, monks, freres, 
guests, servants, deep into the night. The 
next morning the king rejoined his party, who 
had been much alarmed at losing him. Order 
was given that when the abbot came he should 
be immediately admitted, and it was not long 
before he made his appearance, with two of 
his monks. The king received him graciously, 
all that he asked was granted; the abbot 
begged leave to retire, but the king carried him 
off to luncheon and seated him by his side. 
After a splendid meal, the king, lifting a big 
cup of gold, called out, * Pril, father abbot I ' 
The abbot, staggering with shame and fear, 
begged his grace and forgiveness. The king 
swore by God's eyes that as they had eaten 
and drunk together in good fellowship the 
night before, so should it be to-day ; and it 
should be ' pril ' and ' wril ' in his house as it 
had been at the convent. The abbot could 
not but obey, and stammered out his ' wril,' 
and then king and abbot, knights and monks, 
and, at the king's command, everybody in 
hall and court, kept up unremittingly a merry 
and uproarious interchange of * pril ' and * wril.' 
Of all the four old poems we may repeat 

what Percy has said of 'John the Reeve,' 
that " for genuine humor, diverting incidents, 
and faithful pictures of rustic manners, they 
are infinitely superior to all that have been 
since written in imitation," meaning by these 
the broadside ballads or histories.! A brief 
account of such of these as have not been 
spoken of (all of very low quality) is the ut- 
most that is called for. 

4 The Shepherd and the King.'J King Al- 
fred, disguised in ragged clothes, meets a shep- 
herd, and all but demands a taste of his scrip 
and bottle. The shepherd will make him win 
his dinner, sword and buckler against sheep- 
hook. They fight four hours, and the king 
cries truce ; ' there is no sturdier fellow in the 
land than thou,' says the king ; ' nor a lustier 
roister than thou,' says the shepherd. The 
shepherd thinks his antagonist at best a ruined 
prodigal, but offers to take him as his man ; 
Alfred accepts the place, is equipped with 
sheep-hook, tar-box, and dog, and accompa- 
nies his master home. Dame Gillian doubts 
him to be a cut-throat, and rates him roundly 
for letting her cake burn as he sits by the 
fire. Early the next morning Alfred blows 
his horn, to the consternation of Gill and her 
husband, who are still abed. A hundred men 
alight at the door ; they have long been look- 
ing for their lord. The shepherd expects to 
be hanged ; both he and his wife humbly beg 
pardon. Alfred gives his master a thousand 
wethers and pasture ground to feed them, and 
will change the cottage into a stately hall. 

4 King James and the Tinker.' || King James, 
while chasing his deer, drops his nobles, and 

* See Geoffrey of Monmonth, Hist. Reg Brit., vi, 12, 
Wace, Roman de Brut, 7111-44, ed. LeRoux de Lincy, I, 
329, Layamon's Brut, 14297-332, Madden, II, 174 f . ; and 
for other drinking-calls besides these, Wace, Roman de Ron, 
Part iii, 7357-60, ed. Andresen, II, 320. 

t Preface to ' The King and Miller of Mansfield.' 

t 1578, September 25, licensed to Ric. Jones, 'A merry 
SoDge of a Kinge and a Shepherd ' Arber, II, 338. 

1624, December 14, to Master Pavier and others, among 
128 ballads, ' King and Shepperd : ' Arber, IV, 131. 

Wood, 401, fol. 1 b; Douce, I, fol. 1 b; Euing, Nos 331, 
332 ; Pepys, I, 76, No 36, I, 506, No 260 ; Crawford, No 
648 ; Roxbnrghe, I, 504, printed by Chappell, III, 210. 

This is as old as Asser; Annales, Wise, Oxford, 1722, 
p. 30. 

VOL. v. 10 

|| ' King James and the Tinker,' Douce, HI, fol. 126 b, 
fol. 136 b ; no printer, place, or date. ' King James the 
First and the Tinker/ Garland of Mirth and Delight ; no 
place or date. The same ' King James and the Tinkler/ 
Dixon, in Richardson's Borderer's Table-Book, VII, 7, and 
Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs, etc., p. 109, Percy So- 
ciety, vol. xyii. ' James V. and the Tinker/ A. Small, Inter- 
esting Roman Antiquities recently discovered in Fife, p. 283. 
' King James the First and the fortunate Tinker/ The King 
and Tinker's Garland, containing three excellent songs, 
Sheffield, 1745, Halliwell, Notices of Fugitive Tracts, p. 29, 
No 36, Percy Society, vol. xxix (not seen) ' The King 
and the Tinkler/ a nfacimento, in Maidment's Scotish Bal- 
lads and Songs, 1859, p. 92 ; Kinloch MSS, V, 293. 



rides to an ale-house in search of new pleas- 
ures, finds a tinker there, and sets to drinking 
with him. The tinker has never seen the 
king, and wishes he might ; James says that 
if he will get up behind him he shall see the 
king. The tinker fears that he shall not 
know the king from his lords ; the nobles will 
all be bare, the king covered. When they 
come to the greenwood the nobles gather about 
the king and stand bare ; the tinker whispers, 
* they are all gallant and gay, which, then, is 
the king ? ' 'It must be you or I,' answers 
James, for the rest are all uncovered. The 
tinker falls on* his knees, beseeching mercy; 
the king makes him a knight with five hun- 
dred a year. (Compare the story of James 
Fifth of Scotland and John Howieson, Scott's 
Tales of a Grandfather, ch. 27.) 

4 The King and the Forester.' * King Wil- 
liam the Third, forbidden to hunt by a for- 
ester who does not recognize him, tries in vain 
to bribe the man, makes himself known, pre- 
sents the forester with fifty guineas, and ap- 
points him ranger. 

4 The Royal Frolick, or, King William and 
his Nobles' Entertainment at the Farmer's 
House on his return from the Irish wars.' f 
King William, 'returning to London from 
Limerick fight,' stops at a farm-house * for 
merriment sake,' and asks country cheer for 
himself and his nobles. The farmer and his 
wife have gone to the next market-town to 
see the king pass, and their daughter alone is 
at home. She serves bacon and eggs, all that 
she has ; the king throws her ten guineas, 
and one of his lords adds two for loyal senti- 
ments which the girl had expressed. In a 
Second Part the farmer and his wife, when 
they return, learn that the king is at their 
house, are ordered into his presence, and are 

* ' The Loyal Forrister, or Royal Pastime/ printed for 
C. Bates in Pye-Corner (c. 1696), Euing, No 156. 'King 
William and his Forrester/ no imprint, c. 1690-94, Craw- 
ford, No 1421. ' The King and the Forrester/ Roxburghe, 
HI, 790, Ebsworth VII, 763 (Bow Church- Yard '). 'King 
William going a hunting/ MotherwelTs MS., p. 101, from 

t ' The Royal Frolick/ etc., Pepys, H, 313, in Ebsworth's 
Roxbnrghe Ballads, VII, 756. 

} ' The Royal Recreation, or A Second Part, containing 
the passages between the Farmer and his Wife at their re- 

rewarded for the meal which had been fur- 

4 The King and the Cobbler ' (a prose his- 
tory). King Henry Eighth, visiting the 
watches in the city, makes acquaintance with 
a cobbler, and is entertained in the cobbler's 
cellar; invites the cobbler to court, directing 
him to inquire for Harry Tudor, etc. ; settles 
upon him land in the Strand worth fifty pound 
a year, which land is to be called Cobler's 

Campbell, West Highland Tales, IV, 142, 
says that he has a Gaelic tale like ' The Mil- 
ler of Mansfield.' 

A Belgian story of the Emperor Charles 
Fifth and a broom-maker has all the typical 
points of the older cycle, and, curiously 
enough, Charles Fifth instructs the broom- 
maker to bring a load of his ware to the pal- 
ace to sell, as Charles the Great does in the 
case of Rauf Coilyear : Maria von Ploen- 
nies, Die Sagen Belgiens, p. 251. 

The same collection, p. 246 f ., has the story 
of the man who wished to see the king (an 
anecdote of Charles Fifth and a peasant). This 
story turns up again in Thiele's ( Kongen og 
Bonden, 1 Danmarks Folkesager, I, 62 (1843). 
Christian the Fourth, after a long walk, takes 
a seat in the cart of a countryman who is on 
his way to the castle. The countryman wishes 
that he might see the king ; the king will be 
the only man to keep his hat on ; the coun- 
tryman says, It must be you or I. 

After the older pattern is this Russian 
story, Afanasief, VII, 283, No 32 (given me 
by Professor Wollner). A tsar who has lost 
himself while hunting passes the night with a 
deserter in a robbers-hut in a wood. They 
draw lots who shall stand guard, and the lot 

turn home, where they fonnd the King with his Noble Reti- 
nue.' Pepys, II, 326, Roxburghe, H, 397, Ebsworth, VII, 

' The King and the Cobler.' Charles Denniaon, at the 
sign of the Stationers' Arms within Aldgate (1685-89, Chap- 
pell). Wood, 254, xi ; Pepys, Penny Merriments, vol. i ; 
Halliwell, Notices of Popular Histories, p. 48, Percy So- 
ciety, vol. xxiii, Newcastle, without date ; Manchester 
Penny Histories (last quarter of the eighteenth century), 
Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, p. 482, No 6. 



falls to the tsar, to whom the soldier gives his 
side-arms. Notwithstanding many warnings, 
the tsar dozes on his post, and at last the sol- 
dier, first punishing him a little, packs him off 
to sleep. The robbers come, one by one, and 
are shot by the soldier. The next day the 
deserter shows the tsar his road, and after- 
wards pays the tsar a visit at court, discovers 
who his comrade was, and is made general. 

The Emperor Maximilian Second, while 
walking in a wood, comes upon a charcoal- 
burner ; they have a talk, and the emperor is 
invited to share the man's dumplings. Maxi- 
milian asks the charcoal-burner to pay him a 
visit when he comes to the city, lets him see 
the princes and the empress, and gives him 
a luncheon. There is no Eclair cissement at 
the time. In the end the charcoal-burner 

and his family are employed in the imperial 

Robert Dodsley made a very pleasing little 
sentimental drama out of ' The King and the 
Miller of Mansfield ' (1787), and from this 
play (perhaps through a translation, * Le Roi 
et le Meunier,' made before 1756), Sldaine 
took the substance of ' Le Roi et le Fermier,' 
1762, and Colld the idea of 4 La Partie 
de Chasse de Henri IV, 1774.' Goldoni's 
musical drama, ' II re alia caccia * (King 
Henry IV of England), produced a year 
after Sedaine's play, seems to have been sug- 
gested by it : vol. 37 of the edition of Venice, 

Percy's ballad is translated by Bodmer, I, 

1 In summer time, when leaves grew green, 

and birds were singing on every tree, 
King Edward would a hunting ride, 
some pastime for to see. 

2 Our king he would a hunting ride, 

by eight a clock of the day, 
And well was he ware of a bold tanner, 
came riding on the way. 

3 A good russet coat the tanner had on, 

fast buttoned under his chin, 

And under him a good cow-hide, 

and a mare of four shilling. 

4 ' Now stand you here, my good lords all, 

under this trusty tree, 
And I will wend to yonder fellow, 
to know from whence came he. 

5 ' God speed, God speed/ then said our king; 

' thou art welcome, good fellow/ quoth he ; 

* Kulda, Moravske- n. pohidky, etc., 1874, I, 56, No 20, 
in Wenzig, Westslavischer Marchenschatz, p. 179. 

Tonndorf, in the dissertation already cited, remarks with 
truth that meetings of king and subject (or the like) are 
quite regularly a seqnel or incident of a hunt, and refers to 
Grimms, Deutsche Sagen, Nos 550, 563, 566 ; Cardonne, 
Melanges de Literature orientale, pp. 68, 87, 1 10 ; Grttoe, 

* Which is the way to Drayton Basset 
I pray thee shew to me.' 

6 ' The ready way to Drayton Basset, 

from this place as thou dost stand, 
The next pair of gallows thou comst to 
thou must turn up [on] thy right hand/ 

7 ' That is not the way/ then said our king, 

' the ready way I pray thee shew me ; ' 
< Whether thou be thief or true man/ quoth 

the tanner, 
' 1 'm weary of thy company. 

8 * Away, with a vengeance,' quoth the tanner, 

' I hold thee out of thy wit, 
For all this day have I ridden and gone, 
And I am fasting yet.' 

9 'Go with me to Drayton Basset,' said our 

1 no daintyes we will lack ; 

Gesta Bomanornm, cap. 56, 1, 87, Anhang, No 16, n, 198 ; 
Othonis Melandri loco-Seria, No 338, p. 292, ed. Frankfort, 
1617. In four of these cases the noble person loses his way, 
and has to seek hospitality. In Deutsche Sagen, No 566, 
we have a charcoal-burner who relieyea a prince's hunger 
and is afterwards entertained at the prince's table. 



We 1 hare meat and drink of the best, 
And I will pay the shot.' 

10 * Godamercy for nothing,' said the tanner, 

* thou shalt pay for no dinner of mine ; 
I have more groats and nobles in my purse 
then thou hast pence in thine.' 

11 * God save your goods,' then said the king, 

< and send them well to thee ! ' 

< Be thou thief or true man,' quoth the tanner, 
'I am weary of thy company. 

12 Away, with a vengeance/ quoth the tanner, 

< of thee I stand in fear ; 

The aparrell thou wearst on thy back 
May seem a good lord to wear.' 

13 ' I never stole them,' said our king, 

' I swear to thee by the rood ; ' 
' Thou art some ruffian of the country, 
thou rid'st in the midst of thy good/ 

14 * What news dost thou hear ? ' then said our 

' I pray what news do you hear ? ' 

* I hear no news,' answered the tanner* 

' but that cow-hides be dear.' 

15 * Cow-hides ? cow-hides ? ' then said our king, 

<I marvell what they be ;' 

* Why, art thou a fool ? ' quoth the tanner, 

* look, I have one under me.' 

16 ' Yet one thing now I would thee pray, 

so that thou wouldst not be strange ; 
If thy mare be better then my steed, 
I pray thee let us change.' 

17 ' But if you needs with me will change, 

As change full well may ye, 
By the faith of my body,' quoth the tanner, 
'I look to have boot of thee.' 

18 'What boot wilt thou ask?' then said our 


'what boot dost thou ask on this ground? ' 
1 No pence nor half-pence,' said the tanner, 
' but a noble in gold so round.' 

19 ' Here 's twenty good groats,' then said the 

' so well paid see yon be ; ' 

<I love thee better then I did before, 
I thought thou hadfit nere a peny. 

20 ' But if so be we needs must change, 

as change thou must abide, 
Though thou hast gotten Brock my mare, 
thou shalt not have my cow-hide.' 

21 The tanner took the good cow-hide, 

that of the cow was hilt, 
And threw it upon the king's saddle, 
That was so fairly guilt 

22 * Now help me, help me,' quoth the tanner, 

1 Full quickly that I were gone, 
For when I come home to Gillian my wife 
she '1 say I 'm a gentleman*' 

23 The king took the tanner by the leg, 

he girded a fart so round ; 
' You 'r very homely,' said the king, 
4 were I aware, I 'd laid you o th f ground.' 

24 But when the tanner was in the king's saddle 

astonBd then he was ; 

He knew not the stirrops that he did wear, 
whether they were gold or brass. 

25 But when the steed saw the black cow-tale wag, 

for and the black cow-horn, 
The steed began to run away, 
as the divel the tanner hivj born* 

26 Untill he came unto a nook, 

a little beside an ash ; 
The steed gave the tanner such a fall 
his neck was almost brast 

27 ' Take thy horse again, with a vengeance,' he 


' with me he shall not abide ; ' 
* It is no marvell,' said the king, and langht, 

* he knew not your cow-hide. 

28 ' But if that we needs now must change, 

as change that well we mought, 
I 'le swear to yon plain, if you have your mare, 
I look to have some boot' 

29 'What boot will you ask?' quoth the tanner, 

' What boot will you ask on this ground ?' 
' No pence nor half-pence,' said our king, 

* but a noble in gold so round.' 


30 * Here 's twenty [good] groats/ said the tanner, 

* and twenty more I have of thine ; 
I have ten groats more in my purse, 
we 1 drink five of them at the wine.' 

31 The king set a bugle-home to his mouth, 

that blew both loud and shrill, 
And five hundred lords and knights 
came riding over a hilL 

32 " Away, with a vengeance,' quoth the tanner, 

' with thee I 'le no longer abide ; 
Thou art a strong thief, yonder be thy fellows, 
they will steal away my cow-hide. 1 

33 ' No, I protest,' then said our king, 

' for so it may not be ; 
They be the lords of Drayton Basset, 
come out of the North Country/ 

34 But when they came before the king 

full low they fell on their knee ; 
The tanner had rather then a thousand pound 
he had been out of his company. 

35 < A coller ! a coller! ' then said the king, 

' a coller ! ' then did he cry ; 
Then would he have given a thousand pound 
he had not been so nigh. 

36 < Acoller? a coller ? ' then quoth the tanner, 

* it is a thing which will breed sorrow ; 
For after a coller commeth a halter, 

and I shall be hanged tomorrow.' 

37 * No, do not fear,' the king did say ; 

' for pastime thou hast shown me, 
No coller nor halter thou shalt have, 
but I will give thee a fee. 

38 ( For Plompton Park I will give thee, 

with tenements three beside, 
Which is worth three hundred pound a year, 
to maintain thy good cow-hide.' 

39 ' Godamercy, Godamercy,' quoth the tanner ; 

* for this good deed thou hast done, 

If ever thou comest to merry Tamworth, 
thou shalt have clouting-leather for thy 

a, b. A pleasant new ballad of King Edward the 
Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth, as he 
rode a hunting with his nobles towards (b, 
to) Drayton Bass[et]. To an excellent new 

a. Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and W. Gfl- 


b. London, printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and 

J. Wright. 

o. A pleasant new ballad betweene King Edward 
the Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth, as 
hee rode upon a time with his nobles on 
hunting towards Drayton Basset. . . . Lon- 
don, Printed by A. M. (probably Alexander 
Milbourne, 1670-97). 

a. I 1 , grow. l a . birds sitting. 7 8 , 36 1 . qd. 
8*, 37 4 . the. 13*. of the. 

18'. no half pence said our king. 

20 4 . shalt noo. 23 f . guirded. 29*. in this. 

29*. gould. 30 8 . groat 

35 1 . A choller, a coller. 

36 s , 36 l ', 37 choller. 38 8 . besides. 

b. I 1 , grow. 1*. birds were singing. 

2*. he wanting. 3*. to his, 6 4 . up on. 

7 8 . be a: or a. II 1 . said our. 13*. the wood. 
14 s . pray thee : dost thou. 16 s . would. 
17 1 . if thou. 17*. have some boot 
18 1 . boot will you have. 
18 s . nor half pence said the tanner. 
19 1 . said our. 19*. see thou. 20 4 . not have. 
21 a . off. 22 1 . Now help me up, quoth. 
22. For wanting. 23*. guirded. 23 4 . I had. 
24 1 . Rut wanting. 24 a . astonished, 
25 9 . and before the. 26 1 . into. 26*. an oak. 
26 4 . almost broke. 28 1 . now wanting. 
28*. change well now we might 29*. on this. 
30 1 . twenty good. 30*. groats. 34'. he gave a. 
35 1 '*, 36 1 - 8 , 37 $ . collar. 36 1 . then wanting. 
36*. which wanting. 38*. beside. 
39 4 . clout-leather. 

o. I 1 , grew. 1*. birds sitting. 2 4 . come. 
4 1 . good my lords. 6 4 . pray you shew it to. 
6 1 . ready wanting. 6*. this way. 
6 4 . upon the left 7*. readiest 
8* all wanting. 9'. For wee '1. 9*. for the, 
1C 1 , quoth the. II 1 . our king. 11*. said the. 
13*. to you. 13 4 . of thy. 14 1 . doe you. 
16 1 . thing of thee I. 16*. would. 



16*. pray you. 17*. thou needs : wilt 

IS 1 , the king. 18*. wilt thou. 

18 s . nor half pence said the tanner. 

19 8 . see that yon. 20 1 . we must needs. 

20*. we most. 20*. not have. 2 1 1 , he tooke. 

22 1 . helpe, helpe me up. 23 a . girded. 

23*. then said. 23*. I 'de a laid. 

24*. that he. 

28 1 . wee must needs now change here. 

28*. well that we mote. 28*. I doe looke. 

29 1 . wilt thou. 29*. wilt thou: on this. 

29*. said the. 29 4 . but in gold twenty pound. 

30 1 . twenty groats. 30 s . I had. 30*. groats. 

31 s . Then five. 34 s . a hundred. 

34 4 . of their. 35 1 ' 2 , 36 1 ' 8 , 37 s . coller. 

36*. that he did cry. 36 1 . then wanting. 

36*. that is a thing will 38 1 . will thee give. 

38*. with the : beside. 38 s . five hundred. 

The Pepys copy was printed for J. W[right], 
J. Clarke], W. T[hackeray], and T. P[as- 
singer]. Euing, No 273, for F. Coles, T. 
Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke ; No 274, 
for F. Coles, T. Vere, and W. Gilberteon 
(as a). Heber's copy for F. Coles (1646- 



Library of the University of Cambridge, MS. Ee. 
iv, 35. 1, f ol. 19 b. Written mostly in couplets of 
long lines, sometimes in stanzas of four short lines, 
with omissions, transpositions, and other faults. 

It will be observed that neither in this tale nor 
in the " history " which follows does the tanner be- 
come aware that he has been dealing with "our 
kyng." In both he calls the king " good f ellow " 
to the very last What happens at the meeting 
with Lord Basset, 30, is not made quite intelligible. 
It must be that Lord Basset and his men fall on 
their knees, but the conviction that " this " is the 
long seems to make no great difference in the tan- 
ner's bearing. 

1 WELL yow here a god borde 
to make yow all low, 

How het ffell apon a tyme, 
or eney man het know ? 

2 The kyng rod a hontyng, 

as pot tyme was ; 
Ff or to hont a dere 
Y trow hes hope was. 

8 As he rode, he hover- 

toke yn the wey 
A tannar off Dantre, 
yn a queynte araye. 

4 Blake kow-heydes sat he apon, 

the hornvB heyng be seyde ; 
The kyng low and had god game 
to se the tannar reyde. 

5 Howre kyng bad hes men abeyde, 

and he welde sper of hem the wey; 
' Yffe Y may here eney now tythyng, 
Y schall het to yow saye.' 

6 Howre kyng prekyd and seyde, 

Ser, God the saffe! 
The tannar seyde, 
Well mot yow ffare I 

7 ' God ffellow/ seyde yowre kyng, 

' offe on thyug Y )>e pray ; 
To Drayton Baset well Y reyde, 
wyche y a the wey ? ' 

8 ' That can Y tell the 

ffro hens Jxit Y stonde ; 
When J>ow comest to the galow-tre, 
tome vpon pe lyft honde.' 

9 ' Gramercy, ffellow,' seyde owre kyng, 

' witAowtyn eney wone, 
I schall prey the lord Baset 
thanke the sone. 

10 * God ffellow,' seyde oww kyng, 

* reyde J?ow wttA me 
Tell Y com to Drayton Baset, 
Now Yhetse.' 

11 ' Nay, be mey ffeyt,' 

seyde the barker thoo, 
1 Thow may sey Y were a ffole, 
and Y dyd so. 

12 ' I hast yn mey wey as well 

as pow hast yn theyne ; 
Beyde fforthe and seke they wey ; 
)?i hors ys better nar meyne.' 


13 The tanner seyde, 

What maner man ar ye V 
< A preker abowt,' seyd ]?e kyng, 
' yn maney a centre.' 

14 Than spake the tanner, 

ffoll scrodeley ayen ; 
Y had a brother vowsed the same, 
tell he cowde never the[n]. 

15 Than yowre kyng 

smotley gan smeyle : 
Y prey the, ffelow, 
reyde wttA me a meyle.' 

16 ' What, devell ' ' quod the tanner, 

* art pou owt off they wet ? 
Y most horn to mey deynere, 
ffor I am ffastyng yet.* 

17 * Good ffelow,' seyde owre kyng, 

' Care )>e not ffor no mete ; 
)?ou schalt haffe mete ynow to neyjt, 
and yeffe )>ou welt ette.* 

18 The tanner toke gret skorne of hem, 

and sware be Creystys pyne, 
Y trow Y hafe more money yn mey pors 
nar thow hast yn theyne. 

19 ' Wenest thow Y well be owt on neyjt ? 

nay, and God beffore ; 
Was Y neuer owt a-neyt 
sen Y was bore. 1 

20 The tanner lokyd a bake tho ; 

the heydes began to ffall ; 
He was war of the keynges men, 
where they cam reydyng all. 

21 Thes ys a theffe, thowt the tanner, 

Y prey to God geffe hem care ; 
He well haffe mey hors, mey heydes, 
and all mey chaffare. 

22 * Ffor ffeleyschepe/ seyde the tannar, 

4 y[e]t well Y reyde wttA the ; 
Y wot, ware Y mete witA the affterward, 
thow mast do as xneche ffor me.' 

23 ' God amar[sey],' seyde owre kyng, 

1 wttAowt eney wone, 
Y schall prey J>e lord Baset 
to thanke the eone.' 

24 Owre kyng seyde, What now tydyng 

herest [)XTO] as ]>ou [dost] ryd? 
I wolde ff ayne wot, 
ffor J>ow reydest weyde. 

25 < Y know [no] now teytheyng,' )>e tanner seyde, 

herke and ]>ou schalt here ; 
Off al the chaff ar that Y know, 
kow-heydys beyt dere.' 

26 Owre keyng seyde, On theyng 

on mey loffe Y the prey ; 
What herest sey be the lord Baset 
yn thes contrey ? 

27 I know hem not,' seyde the tanner, 

* wttA hem Y hafe lytyll to don ; 
Wolde he neuer bey of me 
clot-lether to clowt wttA schon.' 

28 Howre kyng seyde, Y loffe the well, 

of on thyng I )>e praye ; 
Thow hast harde hes servantea speke, 
what wolde )>ey saye? 

29 Ye, ffor God,' seyde the tanner, 

' J>at tell Y can ; 
Thay sey thay leke hem well, 
ffor he ys a god man.' 

30 Thos they reyd together talkyng, 

for soyt Y yow tell, 
Tell he met }>e lord Baset ; 
on kneys downe J>ey ffell. 

31 Alas, the tanner thowt, 

the kyng Y leue thes be ; 
Y schall be honged, well Y wot, 
at men may me se. 

32 He had no meynde of his hode nor cape 

nere a dell [more], 
Al ffor drede off hes leyffe 
he wende to haffe lore. 

33 The tanner wolde a stole awey, 

whyle he began to speke ; 
Howre kyng had yever an ey on hem, 
that he meyt not skape. 

84 ' God ffelow', seyd owre kyng, 
' witfc me thow most abeyde, 
Ffor )x>w and Y 
most an hontyng reyde.' 

35 Whan they com to Kyng Chas, 

meche game J>ey saye ; 

Howre kyng seyde, Ffelow, what schall Y do, 
my hors ys so hey ? 

86 ' God ffelow,! [seyde owre kyng,] 
lend }>ow me theyne, 

and hafe here meyne/ 



87 Tho the tannar leyt do[w]ne 

and cast a downe hes heydys ; 
Howre kyng was yn lies sadell, 
no leyngger he beydes. 

38 Alas, )>eyn the tanner thowt, 

with mey hors he well reyde awey ; 
Ywell after, 
to get hem and Y may. 

89 He weldo not leffe his heydys beheynde 

ffor no theyng . . . ; 
He cast them yn the kynge schadyll ; 
J?at was a neys seyte. 

40 fo he sat aboffe them, 

as Y [y]ouw saye, 
He prekyd ffast after, 
and ffond }>e redey wey. 

41 The hors lokyd abowt hem, 

and sey on euery seyde 

the kow-hornes blake and wheyte. 

42 The hors went he had bore 

j?e deuell on hes bake ; 
The hors prekyd as he was wode, 
het mestoret to spor hem not. 

48 The barker cleynt on hem ffast, 
he was sore afferde ffor to ffall ; 

44 The kyng lowhe [and had gode game,] 

and was glad to ffollow ]>e chas ; 
Lest pe tanner wolde bere hem downe 
yette he was agast. 

45 The hors sped hem sweythyli, 

he sped hem wonderley ffast ; 
Ayen a bow of an oke 
the tanneres bed he brast 

46 WttA a stombellyng as he rode, 

Jre tanner downe he cast ; 
The kyog lowhe and had god game, 
and seyde, Ser, )xw rydyst to ffast. 

47 The kyng lowhe and had god game, 

and sware be Sent John, 
Seche another horsman 
say Y neuere none. 

48 Owre kyng lowhe and had god bord, 

and sware be Sent Jame, 
Y most nedys lawhe, 
and thow were mey dame. 

49 ' Y bescro the same son,' 

seyde the barker tho, 
' ]>at seche a bord welde haffe 
to se hes dame so wo.' 

50 When her hontyng was ydo, 

pey changyd hors agen ; 
fto the barker had hes howyn, 
J>eyrof he was ffayne. 

51 * God a marsey,' seyd owre kyng, 

* of J>ey serueyse to daye ; 
Yeffe thow hafe awt to do wttA me, 
or owt to saye, 

52 ' They ffrende schall Y yeffor be, 

Be God [fat] ys bet on ; 

53 ' God a marsey,' seyde J>e barker )>o, 

' thow semyst a ffelow god ; 
Yeffe Y met the yn Dantre, 
f ow schalt dreynke, be [)>e] rode.' 

54 ' Be mey ffeyt/ seyde owre kyng, 

* or els were Y to blame, 
Yeffe Y met the yn Lecheffclde, 
fow schalt hafe the same.' 

55 pus they rode talkyng togeder 

to Drayton Hall ; 
Tho the barker toke hes leffe 
of the lordcs all. 

56 Owre kyng comand )?e barker 

yn that tyde 
A c. s'. yn hes pors, 
to mend hes kow-heydys. 

57 There owre kyng and the barker 

partyd ffeyre atwyn ; 
God J?at set yn heffen so hey 
breyng os owt of sen I 

Explycyt pe Kyng and the Barker. 

l a . lawhe all. For low, cf. 4 8 ; lowhe, 44 1 , 46 8 , 

47i, 48 1 . 

6*. ffare. Read, perhaps, with rhyme, haffe. 
7 1 , 15 1 . yowre== owre : cf. yever, yeffor, 88*, 52 1 . 
9 2 . eney woyt : see 28 s . 9 8 . they. 
II 1 . be meyt; cf. 54*. 12 1 . I haffe hast ? 
14 1 , 25 1 , SI*, 88 1 , 3?i, 38 1 , 46 a . thanner, thannar 

(the th caught from the preceding the). 
14 8 . yow (struck through) vowsed (that w, used). 
19 2 . beffore. 22 8 . ynot: methe. 
25 1 . no has been inserted because it occurs in the 



other venions, but now (new), timply, makes some 


26*. as mey. Perhaps, as thow me loffe. 
27*. Bchoys. 28 a . of 1. 
84M. God ffelow witA me thow most abeyde seyd 

owre kyng. 

88*. he well reyde awey wttA mey hors. 
39i. le leffe. 

89*. Words seem to have dropped out at the end. 
42. The rhyme might be restored thus : 

The hors went the deuell 

on hes bake he had bore ; 
The hors prekyd as he was wode, 

het mestoret not hem to spor. 

44 8 > 4 . yeffe he was agast lest J>e tanner wolde bere 

hem downe. 

45 8 . a noke. 45 4 . thanneres : barst. 
48 2 . Jane. 48 8 . nedyst. 50 4 . of ffayne. 
55 1 . to gederff. 



A merrie, pleasant and delectable Historic, betweene Bang 
Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tarn worth, etc. 

a. London, John Danter, 1596, Bodleian Library, 4, 
C. 39. Art. Seld. b London, W. White, 1613, Corpus 
Christ! College Library, X. G. 2. 11. 4th tract 

1 IN summer-time, when leaues grou greene, 

and blossoms bud on euery tree, 
King Edward would a hunting ride, 
some pastime for to see. 

2 With hawke and hound he made him bound, 

with home and eke with bow ; 
Toward Drayton Basset he tooko his way, 
whosoeuer doth it know. 

3 But as our king on his way rode forth, 

by eight a clocke of the day, 
He was ware of a tanner of mery Tamworth, 
was in a quaint aray. 

4 A good russet coat the tanner had on, 

he thought it mickle pride ; 
He rode on a mare cost foure shillings, 
and vnder him a good cow-hide. 

5 A paire of rough mittens the tanner did weare, 

his hood was buckled vnder his chin ; 
1 Yonder comes a good fellow,' said our king, 
* that cares not whether he lose or win.' 

VOL. T. 11 

6 The tanner came singing on his mare, 

with one so merry a note ; 
He sung out of tune, he was past care, 
he had no neede to grease his throte. 

7 ' Stand you here still, my lordes now, 

vnder the greene wood spray, 
And I will ride to yonder fellow, 
to wit what he will say. 

8 ' God speede, good fellow/ said our king ; 

* thou art welcom, sir,' quoth he ; 
< Which is the way to Drayton Basset, 
I pray thee tell to me/ 

9 < Marry, that I will,' quoth the 1 

1 right as here I stand ; 
The next paire of gallows that thou comes to, 
turne in vpon thy right hand.' 

10 It is an vnready way,' said our king, 

' I tell you, so mote Lthee ; 
I pray you show me the readiest way 
the towne that I may see.' 

11 ( Go play the great jauel ! ' quoth the tanner, 

< I hold thee out of thy wit ; 
All day haue I ridden on Brocke, my mare, 
and I am fasting yet. ' 

12 < Why, we will to the towne,' said our king, 

' and of dainties [we will none lacke] ; 
We will eate and drinke and fare of the best, 
and I will pay for the shot.' 

13 ' God haue mercy for nothing,' quoth the tanner, 

* thou palest for none of mine, 

For I haue as many nobles in my purse 
as thou hast pence in thine.' 

14 ' God giue you ioy of yours/ said our king, 

' and send thee well to prief e ; ' 
The tanner would faine haue beene away, 
for he wend he had beene a thiefe. 

15 ' What art thou, good fellow? ' quoth the tanner, 

* of thee I am in great f eare, 

For the clothes that thou wearest on thy back 
are not for a lord to weare.' 

16 * I neuer stole them,' said our king, 

I tell you, sir, by the rood ; ' 
1 No, thou plaiest as many an vnthrift doth, 
thou standst in the mids of thy good.' 

17 * What tidings heare you,' said our king, 

( as you ride farre and neare? ' 
' I heare no tidings,' quoth the tanner, 
1 but that cow-hides are deare.' 



18 'Cow-hides? cow-hides? ' then said our king, 

4 1 know not what they he ; ' 
'Lo, here thou maist see one;' quoth the tanner, 
4 here lyeth one vnder me. 

19 ' Enowst thou not a cow-hide,' quoth the tanner, 

* and hast gone so long to schoole ? 

If euer thou come to dwell in the country, 
thou wilt be made a foole.' 

20 ' What craftsman are you? ' said our king, 

4 I pray you tell me now ; ' 
1 1 am a barker/ quoth the tanner, 
[ 4 What craftsman art thou? '] 

21 ' I am a courtier,' said our king, 

* forth of seruice I am worne ; 

Full faine I would be your prentise,' he said, 

* your cunning for to learne.' 

22 4 Marrie, God forbid,' quoth the tanner, 

( that such a prentise I should haue ; 
He wold spend me more than he would get 
by forlie shillings a yere.' 

28 4 One thing would I wit,' said our king, 

4 if you will not seeme strange; 
Thou my horse be better than your mare, 
with you faine would I change.' 

24 ' Nay, there thou liest yet,' quoth the tanner, 

'by Christ, thou shalt abide ; 
For, if thou haue Brocke, my mare, 
thou gets not my good cow-hide. ' 

25 < I will not haue it,' said our king, 

< I tell thee, so mote I thee ; 
I will not carrie it away 
though you would giue it me.' 

26 4 Why, then we must change,' quoth the tanner, 

4 as needs me thinke thou woot ; 

. But if you haue Brocke, my mare, 

I will looke to haue some boote.' 

27 ' That were against reason,' said our king, 

4 1 tell you, so mote I thee ; 
My horse is much better than your mare, 
and that you may well see.' 

28 * Arise a vous now/ sayd the tanner, 

4 whether thou wilt or no, 
For my mare is gentle and will not kicke, 
but sof tlie she will go. 

29 4 And thy horse is vnhappie and vnwieldie, 

[and will neuer goe in rest,] 
But alwaies skipping here and there, 
and therefore my mare is best.' 

80 < What boot will you haue? ' then said our king, 

4 tell me now in this tide ; ' 
4 Neuer a single pennie,' quoth the tanner, 
1 but a noble of gold so red.' 

81 * Why, there is your noble,' said our king, 

4 well paid looke that you be ; ' 
4 1 would haue s worne on a book, ' quoth the tanner, 
4 thou hadst not one pennie.' 

82 Now hath the king the tanner's mare, 

she is nothing faire, fat nor round, 
And the tanner hath the king's good steede, 
the saddle is worth fortie pound. 

88 The tanner tooke vp the good cowhide, 

off the ground where he stood, 

He threw it vpon the king's steede, 

in the saddle that was so good. 

84 The steed stared vpon the homes, 

vnder the greene wood spraie ; 
He had weende tbe diuell of hell had bin come, 
to carrie him thence away. 

85 The tanner looked as fast on the stirrops, 

astomed sore he was ; 
He meruailed greatly in his minde 
whether they were gold or bras. 

86 4 Help me [vp], good fellow,' quoth the tanner, 

* lightly that I were gone ; 

My wife and my neighbours more and lease 
will say I am a gentleman/ 

87 The king tooke the tanner by the leg, 

and lift him vp a loft ; 
Tbe tanner girded out a good round fart, 
his belly it was so soft. 

88 4 You make great waste/ said our king, 

* your curtesie is but small ; ' 

Thy horse is so high/ quoth the tanner againe, 
4 1 feare me of a fall/ 

89 But when the tanner was in the saddle 

the steede began to blow and blast, 
And against the roote of an old tree 
the tanner downe he cast 

40 ' Abide, good fellow/ said our king, 

4 ye make ouer great hast ; ' 
4 Thou shalt haue thy horse, with a vengeance, 

for my necke is well nigh brast/ 

41 4 Why then we must change/ said our king, 

4 as me thinke needs thou woot ; 



Bat if you haue your mare againe 
I will looke to haue some boote.' 

42 ' What boote wilt thou haue? ' quoth the tanner, 

'tell me in this stotmd ; 
' Neuer a groat nor pennie,' said our king, 
* but of thy gold twentie pound.' 

43 * Nay, here is thy noble,' quoth the tanner again, 

' and Christ's blessing and mine ; 
4 Yea, here is twentie good groats more, 
goe drinke them at the wine.' 

44 ' So mote I thee,' then said our king, 

' it shall not slacke my woe ; 
For when a noble is in small monie 
full soone it is agoe.' 

45 ' Dost thou loue to keepe gold ? ' quoth the tanner, 

the king answered and said, Ye ; 
' Then I would thou were my neere kinsman, 
for I thmke thou wilt thriue and thee.' 

46 Now hath the tanner Brocke, his mare, 

and vnder him his good cowhide, 
Our noble king his horse againe, 
which was a well faire steede. 

47 ' Now farewell, good fellow,* quoth the tanner, 

I will bide no longer with thee ; ' 
* Tarrie yet a little while,' said our king, 
'and some pastime we will see.' 

48 Our king set a bugle to his mouth, 

and blew a blast lowd and small ; 
Seuen score lords, knights, squires and yeomen 
came riding ouer a dale. 

49 ' Now out alas ! ' quoth the tanner, 

' that euer I saw this tide ; 
Thou art a strong thiefe, yonder be thy fellowes, 
will haue my mare and iny cowhide.' 

50 * They are no theeues,' then said our king, 

' I tell you, so mote I thee ; 

It is my lord of Drayton Basset 

is come a hunting to me.' 

51 But when before the king they came, 

they fell downe on their knees ; 
The tanner had leucr than a thousand pound 
he had beene from their companies. 

52 ' A coller I a coller ! ' our king gan call, 

quoth the tanner, It will breede sorrow ; 
For after a coller commeth a halter, 
I trow I shall be hangd tomorrow. 

53 ( Be not afraid, tanner,' said our king, 

' I tell thee, so mote I thee ; 
Lo, here I make thee the best esquier 
in all the North Countrie. 

64 'And Plumton Parke I will giue thee, 

and lacie in [t]his tide 
It is worth three hundred pounds by yeare 
to prepare thy good cowhide.' 

55 ' God a mercie, good fellow,' quoth the tanner, 

1 for this that thou hast done ; 
The next time thou comest to Tarn worth town, 
thou shalt haue clouting-leather for thy shon.' 

56 Now God aboue speed well the plough, 

and keepe vs from care and woe, 
Vntill euene tanner in [t]his countrie 
[doe ride a hunting so,] 

A merrie, pleasant and delectable Historic, be- 
tvveene King Edward the fourth and a Tanner 
of Tarn worth, as he rode vpon a time with his 
nobles a (b,on) hunting toward Drayton Basset: 

Verie pleasant and merrie to read. 

a. Printed at London by John Danter, 1596. (8 


b. At London, printed by W. White, 1613. (8 

b has for a heading The King and the Tanner. 

a. 3 4 . quaint of aray. II 1 . play thee. 
12 2 . Defect supplied from b. 

20*. Cut off, supplied from b. 

26 2 . thou wilt. Cf 4 1 2 . 

29 2 , 56 4 . Cut off; supplied from b. 43 1 . quath. 

b. 3 1 . as the. 3 2 . eight of the. 3*. quaint of ray. 
6 1 . tanner he. 7 1 . here wanting. 8 4 . tell it me. 
9 4 . vp vpon. 10 2 , so might. II 1 . play thee. 
12 2 . we will none lacke. IS 1 . Godamercy. 

15 2 . I htand. 16 4 . middes. 18 4 . lies. 

19 8 . thou happen. 20 4 . what craft-man art thou. 

22 8 than I should. 23 1 . I wish. 23 a . thou wilt. 

23. then thy. 23 4 . would I faine. 

25*, 27 2 , 44 1 , 50 2 . mought. 25 4 . thou wouldst 

26 2 . thinkcs thou wilt. 2G 8 . if thou. 

27 8 . than thy. 29 2 . and will neuer goe in rest. 

81 1 . Why heere. said the. 31 8 . would asworne. 

S3 8 , king's faire steed. 35 a . sore that he. 

36 1 . me up. 38 8 . so hie. 40 4 . welnie. 

41 s . mee thinkes : thou wilt. 45 2 . jea. 45 8 . wert. 

46 s . and wanting. 47 2 . will no longer abide. 

48 a . and he. 50 1 . then wanting. 

51 l . when they all before the king came. 

51 s . had rather. 53*. might. 53 4 . that is in the. 

54 a . Jackie in this. 56 8 . Till : in this. 

56 4 . doe ride a hunting so. 



a. 'Kinge and Miller/ Percy MS., p. 235; Hales and 
Furnirall, II, 147. b. The Pleasant History of the Miller 
of Mansfield, in Sherwood, and Henry the Second, King of 
England, etc , Wood, 254, iv. Small octavo of twelve pages 
Printed for F. Coles, J. Wright, T. Vere, and William 
Gilbertson, 1655. 

1 HENERY, our royal! king, wold goe a huntinge, 

To the greene fforrest soe pleasant and fayre ; 
To haue the harts chased, the daintye does tripping, 

To merry Sherwood his nobles repayre ; 
Hauke and hound was vnbound, all things prepared 
For the same to the game with good regard. 

2 All a longe summers day rode the king pleasantlye, 

With all his princes and nobles eclie one, 
Chasing the hart and hind and the bucke gallantlye, 

Till the darke euening inforced them turne home. 
Then at last, ryding fast, he had lost quite 
All his lords in the wood in the darke night. 

3 Wandering thus wearilye, all alone vp and downe, 

With a rude miller he mett att the last ; 
Asking the ready way vnto fayre Nottingham, 

* Sir,' quoth the miller, * I meane not to iest, 
Yett I thinke what I thinke ; truth for to say, 
You doe not lightlye goe out of your way.' 

4 * Why, what dost thou thinke of me ? ' quoth our 

king merrily, 

* Passing thy iudgment vpon me soe breefe/ 

' Good faith, ' quoth the miller, ' I meane not to flat- 

ter thee, 

I gesse thee to bee some gentleman-theefe ; 
Stand thee backe in the darke ! light not adowne, 
Lest I presentlye cracke thy knaues cro[wn]e I ' 

5 'Thou doest abuse me much,' quoth our king, 

1 saying thus ; 
I am a gentleman, and lodging doe lacke.' 

* Thou hast not/ quoth the miller, ' a groat in thy 

pursse ; 
All thine inheritance hanges on thy backe.' 

* I haue gold to discharge for thai I call ; 
If itt be forty pence, I will pay all.' 

6 * If thou beest a true man,' then said the miller, 

' 1 s weare by my tole-dish I le lodge thee all night/ 
'Heere's my hand/ quoth our king, 'thai was I 

* Nay, soft/ quoth the miller, * thou mayst be a 

sprite ; 

Better I 'le know thee ere hands I will shake ; 
With none but honest men hands will I take/ 

7 Thus they went all alonge unto the millers house, 

Where they were seething of puddings and souce. 
The miller first entered in, then after went the king ; 

Neuer came he in soe smoakye a house. 
4 Now,' quoth hee, * let me see heere what you are ; ' 
Quoth our king, Looke you[r] fill, and doe not 

8 I like well thy countenance ; thou hast an honest 

fac[e] ; 

With my sonne Richard this night thou shalt lye/ 
Quoth his wiffe, By my troth, it is a good hansome 

yout[h] ; 

Yet it is best, husband, to deale warrilye. 
Art thou not a runaway ? I pray thee, youth, tell ; 
Show vs thy pasport and all shalbe well. 

9 Then our king presentlye, making lowe curtcsie, 

With Ms hatt in his hand, this he did say : 
I haue noe pasport, nor neuer was seruitor, 

But a poore courtyer, rode out of the way ; 
And for your kmdnesse now offered to me, 
I will requite it in euerye degree. 

10 Then to the miller his wiffe whispered secretlye, 

Saing, It eeemeth the youth is of good kin, 
Both by his apparell and by his manners ; 

To turne him out, certainely it were a great sin. 
*Yea/ qwoth hee, 'you may see hee hath some 

When as he speaks to his betters in place/ 

11 'Well/ quoth the millers wiffe, 'younge man, 

welcome heer ! 

And tho I say 't, well lodged shalt thou be ; 
Fresh straw I will lay vpon your bed soe braue, 
Good browne hempen sheetes likwise/ quoth 


' I/ quoth the good man, ' and when that is done, 
Thou shalt lye [with] noe worse then our owne 


12 Nay first/ quoth Richard, 'good fellowe, tell me 


Hast thou noe creepers in thy gay hose ? 
Art thou not troubled with the scabbado ? ' 
'Pray you/ quoth the king, 'what things are 


1 Art thou not lowsye nor scabbed ? ' quoth hee ; 
'If thou beest, surely thou lyest not with me/ 

13 This caused our king suddenly to laugh most 


Till the teares trickled downe from his eyes. 
Then to there supper were the* sett orderlye, 

To hott bag-puddings and good apple-pyes ; 
Nappy ale, good and stale, in a browne bowle, 
WAich did about the bord merrilye troule. 



14 'Heere, 'quoth the miller,' good fellowe, I 'ledrinke 

to thee, 

And to all the courtnolls that curteous bee.' 
1 1 pledge thee,' quoth our kino:, ' and thanke thee 


For my good welcome in euerye degree ; 
And heere in like manner I drinke to thy sonne.' 
Doe then/ sales Richard, ' and quicke let it come/ 

15 Wiffe,' quoth the miller, 'feitch me forth light- 


That wee of his sweetnesse a litle may task' 
A faire venson pastye shee feiched forth present- 

'Eate,' quoth the miller, * but first, make noe 

Heer is dainty lightfoote.' 'Infaith,' quoth our 

'I ueuer before eate of soe dayntye a thinge.' 

16 ' Iwis,' said Richard, ' noe dayntye att all it is, 

For wee doe eate of it euerye day.' 
'In what place,* sayd our king, *may be bought 


* Wee neuer pay peennye for it, by my fay ; 
From merry Sherwood wee feitch it home heere ; 
Now and then we make bold with our kings deere.' 

1 7 * Then I thinke, ' quoth our kin^ t * that it is venison.' 

' Eche f oole,' quoth Richard, ' full well may see 

Neuer are we without two or three in the rooffe, 

Verry well fleshed and exellent ffatt. 
But I pray thee say nothing where-ere thou goe ; 
We wold not for two pence the king shold it know.' 

18 ' Doubt not,' said our kino:, ' my promised secresye ; 

The king shall neuer know more on 't for mee.' 
A cupp of lambes woole they dranke vnto him, 

And to their bedds the' past presentlye. 
The nobles next morning went all vp and downe 
For to seeke the king in euerye towne. 

19 At last, att the millers house soone th did spye 

him plaine, 

As he was mounting vpon his faire steede ; 
To whome the* came presentlye, falling downe on 

their knees, 

WAtch made the millers hart wofullye bleed. 
Shaking and quaking before him he stood, 
Thinking he shold be hanged by the rood. 

20 The k[ing] perceiuing him fearfully tremblinge, 

Drew forth his sword, but nothing he said ; 
The miller downe did fail crying before them all, 

Doubtinge the king wold cut of his head. 
But he, his kind curtesie for to requite, 
Gaue him great liuing, and dubd him a knight. 

21 When as our noble king came from Nottingam, 

And with his nobles in Westminster lay, 
Recounting the sports and the pastime the" had tane 

In this late progresse along on the way, 
Of them all, great and small, hee did protest 
The miller of Mansfeild liked him best 

22 ' And now, my lords,' quoth the kino:, 'I am deter- 


Against 8t Georges next sumptuous feast, 
That this old miller, our youngest confirmed knight. 
With his sonne Richard, shalbe both my guest ; 
For in this merryment it is my desire 
To talke with this iollye knight and the younge 

23 When as the noble lords saw the kings merriment, 

The* were right ioyfull and glad in their harts; 
A pursiuant the* sent straight on this busines, 

The wAtch oftentimes vsed those parts. 
When he came to the place where he did dwell, 
His message merrilye then he did tell. 

24 'God saue your worshippe,' then said the messenger, 

* And grant your ladye her owne harts desire ; 
And to your sonne Richard good fortune and 


That sweet younge gentleman and gallant squier! 
Our king greets you well, and thus doth say; 
You must come to the court on St Georges day. 

25 * Therfore in any case fayle not to be in place.' 

' I-wis,' quoth the miller, * it is an odd iest! 
What shold wee doe there V ' he sayd, * infaith I am 
halfe afraid/ 

* I doubt,' quoth Richard, * to be hanged att the 


' Nay/ quoth the messenger, ' you doe mistake ; 
Our kino: prepares a great feast for your sake.' 

26 'Then,' said the miller, * now by my troth, mes- 


Thou hast contented my worshipp full well : 
Hold I there is three farthings to quite thy great 


For these happy tydings which thou dost me tell. 
Let me see ! hearest thou me ? tell to our kino:, 
Wee 'le wayte on his mastershipp in euerye thing.' 

27 The pursivant smyled at their simplicitye, 

And making many leggs, tooke their reward, 
And takeing then his leaue with great humilitye 

To the kino:8 court againe hee repayred, 
Showing vnto his Grace in euerye degree 
The knights most liberall giffts and great bounty e. 

28 When hee was gone away, thus can the miller say; 

Ili'erc conies expences and charges indeed ! 



Now must wee needs be braue, tho wee spend all 

wee haue ; 

For of new garments wee haue great need. 
Of horases and serving-men wee must haue store, 
With bridles and sadles and twentye things more. 

29 'Tushe, Sir John,' quoth his wiffe, 'neither doe 

frett nor frowne, 

You shall bee att noe more charges for mee ; 
For I will turne and trim vp my old russett gowne, 

With euerye thing else as fine as may bee ; 
And on our mill-horsses full swift wee will ryd, 
With pillowes and pannells as wee shall provyde.' 

30 In this most statelye sort the* rod vnto the court, 

Theirjusty sonne Richard formost of all, 
Who sett rp by good hap a cockes fether in his 

And soe the' ietted downe towards the kings hall, 
The merry old miller with his hands on his side, 
His wiffe like Maid Marryan did mince at that tyde. 

81 The king and his nobles, that hard of their coming, 

Meeting this gallant knight with this braue traine, 

' Welcome, Sir KnfyAt,' quoth bee, ' with this your 

gay lady I 

Good Sir lohn Cockle, once welcome againe ! 
And soe is this squier of courage soe free.' 
Quoth Dicke, A botts on you 1 doe you know me ? 

32 Quoth our king gentlye, How shall I forgett thee ? 

Thou wast myowne bed-fellow; well Mat I wot.' 
' But I doe thinke on a tricke,' ' Tell me, pray 

thee, Dicke ! ' 

1 How with farting we made the bed hott.' 
1 Thou horson [un]happy knaue,' the[n] quoth the 

1 Speake cleanly to our [king,] or else goe shite ! ' 

33 The king and his conncellors hartilye laugh at this, 

While the king tooke them by the hand. 
With ladyes and their maids, like to the queene of 

The millers wiffe did most orderlye stand, 
A milkemaids curtesye at euerye word ; 
And downe these folkea were set to the bord. 

34 Where the king royally, with princely maiestye, 

Sate at his dinner with ioy and delight ; 
When he had eaten well, to jesting then bee fell, 

Taking a bowle of wine, dranke to the knt^At. 
' Heere 's to you both! ' he sayd, ' in ale, wine, and 

Thanking you hartilye for all my good cheere.' 

35 Quoth Sir lohn Cockle, I 'le pledge you a pottle, 

Were it the best ale in Nottingam-shire, 
4 Bat then, 1 said our king, ' I thinke on a thinge ; 
Some of your lightfoote I wold we had heere.' 

' Ho, ho 1 ' quoth Richard, < full well I may say it ; 
It 's knauerye to eate it and then to bewray it.' 

86 ( What ! art thou angry ? ' quoth our king merriiye, 

< Infaith I take it verry vnkind ; 
I thought thou woldest pledg me in wine or ale 

'Tee are like to stay/ quoth Dicke, 'till I haue 


You feed vs with twatling dishes soe small ; 
Zounds 1 a blacke pudding is better then all.' 

87 ' I, marry,' quoth our kiny, that were a daintye 


If wee cold gett one heere for to eate.' 
With that, Dicke straight arose, and plucket one 

out of his h[ose,] 
WAtch with heat of his breech began for to 


The king made prefer to snatch it away ; 
' It 's meate for your master, good sir, you shall 

38 Thus with great merriment was the time wholy 


And then the ladyes prepared to dance. 
Old Sir lohn Cockle and Richard incontinent 

vnto this practise the ktn^r did advance ; 
Where with the ladyes such sport the* did make, 
The nobles with laughing did make their heads ake. 

39 Many thankes for their paines the kin^ did giue 

them then, 

Asking young Richard if he wold be wed : 
* Amongst these ladyes faire, tell me wAich liketh 


Quoth hee, lugg Grumball with the red head, 
Shee 's my loue ; shee 's my liffe ; her will I wed ; 
Shee hath sworne I shall haue her maidenhead. 

40 Then Sir lohn' Cockle the king called vnto him ; 

And of merry Sherwood made him ouirseer, 
And gaue him out of hand three hundred pound 

yearlye : 
' But now take heede you steale noe more of my 


And once a quarter let 's hoare haue your vew ; 
And thus, Sir lohn Cockle, I bid thee adew! ' 

a. 5. 40. ?i. into. 7*. seeding. 
17. 2 or 3. 17. 2. 18. saiy. 
26. 3. 28 8 . 20f. 29 a . charges of. 
81*. abotts. 34*. resting, b, jesting. 
36 1 . hungry, b, angry. 40*. SOOV. 

b. I 1 , would ride. I 8 , hart : and dainty. I 4 Unto. 
2 4 . him turn. 2 6 . late in dark. 

3*. miller, your way you have lost. 
3. not likely. 4 1 , M, 13*. the king. 
4*. but some. 4 6 . light thee not down. 


4. Lest that : knock thy. 5*. I lack. 28. 

5. one groat. 5*. discharge all that. 6 6 , I will. 23* 

7 1 . unto. 7 s . seething. 23*. 

7*. after him the. 8 8 . good wanting. 24*. 

8*. for to. 8*. prethee. 8 6 . Shew me. 25 2 . 

9 2 . thus he. 9*. of my. 9 6 . here offered. 26*. 

10*. this youth's. 10. and eke by. 10*. Yes. 27*. 

10*. When he doth speak. 11*. wil have laid on. 28 1 . 

11*. hempten. II 6 . with no. 12 J . within. 28 8 . 

12. Or art. 12*. I pray, quoth. 12*. or. 29*. 

13*. With a hot bag-pudding. 14 1 . I drink thee. 31 a . 

14 s . courtnols where ever they be. S2 8 . 

14*. He pledge you : thank you. 14 4 . For your. 32*. 

14 6 . to your. 14*. Do so, quoth Richard, but. 32 6 . 

15*. pasty then brought she forth. 15*. but fir. 83*. 

15*. then said our. 17 1 . said our. 33*. 

1 7 2 . said Richard. 1 7*. wondrous fat. 84 1 . 

17 6 . But prethee. 18 1 . not then said. 34*. 

18*. him then. 18*. seek out. 19J. they espy'd. 84*. 

19*. should have been. 20 1 . fearfull and. 35 8 . 

20*. would have cut off. 86 1 . 

20*. But his kind curtesie there to. 36*. 

20*. him a living. 21 l . came home. 37*. 

21*. and pastime. 21*. this his progresse along by. 37 6 . 

21*. this he. 21*. Mansfields sport. 38. 

22 8 . our last. 22*. both be my guests. 39 8 . 

22 6 . with this. 2S 1 . kings pleasantnesse. b is 

there was sent : on the. 
Which had many times been in. 
message orderly. 24 s . owne wanting. 
gallant young. 24*. he greets you all. 
this is. 25>. said, faith. 26*. to be wanting. 
here 'B : great wanting. 26*. to your, 
in each. 27*. gift : great wanting. 
When as : thus did. 

we must : though wee sell. 29 s . charges for. 
else wanting. 80 l . rode they. SO*, hand, 
his brave. 32 1 . how should. 82 s . mine own. 
doe wanting : me that prethee Dick. 
How we : did make. 32*. happie : then, 
our king. S3 1 , laught. 83 s . both by. 
so orderly. 

the folks were sate at the side-board, 
in princely. 34 8 . jesting then they, 
wine, ale. 

you all for your country cheere. 
I doe think. 35 6 . 'Tis. 
Why, art thou angry. 86 8 . ale and wine. 
Y J are. 87 2 . If a man could get one hot. 
hose. 37*. for wanting. 37*. made a* 
'T is you must. 38*. Here with, 
their hearts. 39 l . did the king give, 
ladies free. 89*. she will. 40*. bid you. 
printed with the long lines broken into two. 




L Herd's MSS, I, 140; Herd's Ancient and Modern 
Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 172. 

B. 'The Merry Cuckold and Kind Wife/ a broad- 
side Printed and Sold at the Printing-Office in Bow 
Church- Yard, London. 

THE copy in Ritson's Scotish Song, I, 231, 
is from Herd, 1776 ; that in the Musical Mu- 
seum, No 454, p. 466, is the same, with change 
of a few words. In Smith's Scotish Minstrel, 
IV, 66, the piece is turned into a Jacobite 
ballad. The good wife says she is hiding her 
cousin Mclntosh ; ' Tories,' says the goodman. 

B was reprinted by Dixon hi Ancient Po- 
ems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of 
England, p. 211, Percy Society, vol. xvii, 
4 Old Wichet and his Wife,' from a copy "ob- 
tained in Yorkshire " and " collated " with 
the Aldermary broadside. The fifth adven- 
ture (in the closet) is lacking. Two or three 
staves, with variations for the better, are 
given from memory in Notes and Queries, 
First Series, VI, 118, as communicated by Mr 
R. C. Warde, of Kidderminster. (See the 

Percy made B over in two shapes, whether 
for simple amusement or for the projected ex- 
tension of the Reliques : 4 Old Wichet's Dis- 
coveries,' 'Old Wichard's Mistakes,' among 
Percy's papers. 

A. Our goodman, coming home, sees suc- 
cessively a saddle-horse, pair of jack -boots, 
sword, powdered wig, muckle coat, finally a 
man, where none such should be. He asks 
the goodwife how this came about without 
his leave. She responds contemptuously that 
the things he has supposed himself to see 
are, respectively, a sow (milch-cow), a pair 
of water-stoups, a porridge-spurtle, a clocken- 
hen, a pair of blankets, a milking-maid, which 
her mother has sent her. Far has he ridden, 
but a saddle on a sow's (cow's) back, siller 

spurs on water-stoups, etc., long -bearded 
maidens, has he never seen. 

B. In B Old Wichet comes upon three 
horses, swords, cloaks, pairs of boots, pairs of 
breeches, hats, and in the end three men in 
bed. Blind cuckold, says the wife, they are 
three milking-cows, roasting-spits, mantuas, 
pudding-bags, petticoats, skimming-dishes, 
milking-maids, all presents from her mother. 
The like was never known, exclaims Old 
Wichet ; cows with bridles and saddles, roasts 
ing-spits with scabbards, etc., milking-maids 
with beards ! 

A song founded on this ballad was intro- 
duced into the play of " Auld Robin Gray," 
produced, according to Guest's History of the 
Stage, at the Haymarket, July 29, 1794. 
This song is a neat resume* of the ballad, with 
a satisfactory catastrophe.* See an appendix. 

A Gaelic copy, taken down by Rev. Alex- 
ander Stewart, of Ballachulish, from the re- 
citation of an old man in his parish whose 
father had been in the way of singing it sixty 
years before, is plainly based upon A. The 
goodman, coming home unexpectedly, finds a 
boat on the beach, a horse at the door, etc. 
These and other things are explained by his 
wife as gifts from her mother. Far has he 
wandered, but never saw a saddle on a cow, 
etc. Alexander Stewart, 'Twixt Ben Nevis 
and Glencoe, 1885, p. 76 ff. 

A ballad known and sung throughout Flem- 
ish Belgium, ' Mijn man komt thuis,' is formed 
upon the pattern of A, and must have been 

* I am indebted for information concerning this song, 
and for a copy, to Mr P Z. Round 



derived from A, unless the two have a com- 
mon source. Two copies are given in Volks- 
kunde (Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsche Folk- 
lore), II, 49-58, by the editors, Messrs A. 
Gitte*e and Pol de Mont, a third by Pol de 
Mont, V, 20. A man comes home late, and 
sees in his bedroom a strange hat, overcoat, 
and other articles of clothing, and asks whose 
they are. His wife answers that they are a 
water-pot, a straw mattress, etc., which her 
mother has sent her. Travel the world round, 
he has never seen a water-pot with a band 
about it, a straw mattress with two sleeves, etc. 
In the last adventure of the first copy, the hus- 
band finds a man in the room, and his wife 
flatly answers, it is a lover my mother has 
sent me. The second copy ends a little bet- 
ter, but not well. The man is explained to 
be a foster-child sent by his wife's mother, and 
so in the third. The husband has travelled the 
world round, but a foster-child with whiskers 
has he never seen. The wife packs out of 
the house. He has travelled the world round, 
but a wife like his he wishes never to see 

Friedrich Wilhelm Meyer, in 1789, turned 
B into German in very happy style, furnish- 
ing a dtfno'fiment in which the man gives his 
wife a beating and explains his cuffs as ca- 
resses which her mother has sent her. Meyer's 
ballad was printed in IT 90, in the Gottingen 
Musenalmanach, p. 61 fL, and the same year 
in Lieder fiir frohliche Gesellschaften, p. 37 
(Hamburg). It had great and immediate 
success, was circulated as a broadside, and 
was taken up by the people, in whose mouth 
it underwent the usual treatment of ballads 
traditionally propagated.* From Germany it 
spread into Scandinavia and Hungary, and 
perhaps elsewhere. German varieties are : 
'Des Mannes Heimkehr,' Hoffmann u. Rich- 
ter, p. 225, No 195; 'Wind iiber Wind,* 
Simrock, p. 375, No 241 ; ' Des Ehemannes 
Heimkehr,' Ditfurth, Frankische Volkslieder, 
Il r Theil, p. 61, No 61 ; Firmenich, Germa- 

* Hoffmann von Fallersleben, Unsere Volksthumlichen 
Lieder, No 478 It begins 

Ich ging in memen Stall, da sab ich, ei ' ei ! 
An Knppen standen Pferde, eins, zwei, drei. 
VOL. v. 12 

niens Volkerstiinmen, III, 66 ; ( Der Baner u. 
sein Weib,' Erlach, IV, 90 ; * Der betrogene 
Ehemann,' Prohle, p. 143 ; Walter, p. 97; 4 O 
Wind, O Wind, O Wind ! ' Zurmiihlen (Diil- 
kener Fiedler), p. 101. (The last four lack 
the beating.) 

The only Scandinavian copy that I have 
seen is the Swedish ' Husarerna,' in Berg- 
strom och Nordlander, Sagor, Sagner och 
Visor, 1885, p. 93. For indication of others, 
Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish (including 
a broadside as early as 1799), see, particu- 
larly, Olrik, Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, 
II, 211 f., and note***; also, Dy beck's Runa, 
1* Samlingen, 1865, I, 89 (where the begin- 
nings of two stanzas are cited) ; Afzelius, ed, 
1880, II, 285. 

Magyar (Szekler), Krfza, Vadr6zsak, p. 
242, No 483 ; Aigner, p. 149. 

French. A similar ballad is common in 
France, especially in the south. 

Poe*sies pop. de la France, MSS : II, fol. 54, 
4 Marion ; ' III, 60 (printed in Revue des Tra- 
ditions pop., II, 66), 62, 64, Puy-de-Dfane ; 
68, Auvergne ; 69, ' Zjean et Mariou,' Bour- 
bonnais; 71, Pays de Caux; 72, * Le jaloux,' 
environs de Toulouse; 74, Gascogne (Rol- 
land, II, 211) ; 75, Languedoc ; 76, l Lo sur- 
prero,' Limousin (Rolland, II, 212) ; 78, 4 Le 
mari de Marion,' Normandie ; 80, 66, 4 Le 
rnari jaloux,' Bouches-du-Rh6ne ; 82, 4 Ma- 
rion,' Provence ; 83, Loiret ; 84, * La rusade,' 
Limousin;' 87, 'Lou jolous' (Rolland, II, 
213, Revue des Trad, pop., I, 71), Limoges; 
VI, 381 vo, ' Jeannetoun' (Rolland, II, 214), 
Quercy. 4 Lou jalous,' Arbaud, Chants pop. 
de la Provence, II, 152. * Lou galant,' Atger, 
Revue des Langues romanes, VI, 261, and 
Poesies pop. en Langue d'oc, p. 53. 'Las 
finessos de la Marioun,' Moncaut, Literature 
pop. de la Gascogne, p. 316 = Blade*, Poesies 
pop. de la Gascogne, II, 116 f. Revue des 
Traditions pop., II, 64, C^vennes. Daudet, 
Numa Roumestan, ed. 1881, p. 178, Provence 
= Revue des Tr. pop., II, 65, Guest de la 
France. ' Lou Tsalous, Daymard, Bulletin 
de la Socie'te' des Etudes,' etc., du Lot, IV, 100, 
1878, Vieux chants pop. rec. en Quercy, 1889, 
p. 92. 'Las rebirados de Marioun,' Soleville, 



Chants pop* da Bas-Quercy, p. 22 ; partly, in 
Pouvillon, Nouvelles rfolistes, ed. 1878, p. 151. 
Victor Smith in Romania, IX, 566-68, three 
copies, Forez, Velay, bas-limousin. * Le man 
soup9onneux,' Tarbe*, Romancero de Cham- 
pagne, II, 98, Ardennes. ' La chanson de la 
bergdre,' Puymaigre, Chants pop. rec. dans le 
Pays messin, 1865, p. 215, 1881, 1, 263. ' Les 
rlpliques de Marioun,' Almanach des Tradi- 
tions pop., 1882, p. 86, in Holland, II, 208, 
No 162 a, environs de Lorient. ' Las respoun- 
sos de Marioun, 9 Laroche, Folklore du Lau- 
raguais, p. 211. " Le Chroniqueur da P6ri- 
gord et da Limousin, Pe>igueux, 1853, p. 
109." Le Pelerinage de Mireille, p. 173." 
(The last two I have not seen.) 

For the most part, the colloquy runs in this 
wise: ( Where were you last evening, Mar- 
ion?* 'In the garden, picking a salad.' 
'Who was it you were talking with?' 'A 
gossip of mine ' (camarade, voisine, cousin e, 
scaur, servante, etc.). ' Do women wear a 
sword? 9 *It was no sword, but a distaff.* 
' Do women wear breeches ? * ' She was kilted 
up.' * Have women a moustache ? ' * She 
had been eating mulberries.' ' It is too late 
for mulberries.' 'They were last year's' (an 
autumn branch, etc.). ' I will cut off your 
head.' ' And what will you do with the rest ? ' 
4 Throw it out of the window.' 4 Les cor- 
beaux (cochons, chiens, chats, mouches, cou- 
teliers, capucins, anges, etc.) en feront fete.' 
In a few instances, to end the more smartly, 
the husband is made to promise (or the wife 
to ask) forgiveness for this time, and the wife 
adds, aside, 'and many more.' 'You will 
play off no more tricks on me.' ' Forgive 
this, and I will, a good many.' (Holland.) 
* Pardon this fault ; to-morrow I will commit 
another.' (Victor Smith.) * Get up : I pardon 
you.' * What dolts men are I What can't we 
make them believe I ' (MSS, III, 78.) Etc. 

In some half dozen copies, Marion has been 
at the spring (not in the garden), and has 
stayed suspiciously long, which she accounts 
for by her having found the water muddied. 
After this, and in a few copies which have 
no garden or spring, the matter is much the 
same as in the English ballad ; there is a 

sword on the mantel-shelf (a gun on the 
table), boots (cane) behind the door, a man 
where nae man should be. Nearest of all to 
the English is one of Victor Smith's ballads, 
Romania, IX, 566 : ' Whose horse was that in 
the stable last night?' 'No horse, but our 
black cow.' 4 A cow with a saddle ? ' 'No sad- 
dle ; it was the shadow of her horns.' 4 Whose 
breeches, boots, sabre, hat? ' ' qui e"tait couch6 
a ma place ? ' The mulberries are nearly a 
constant feature in the French ballad. 

There is an approach to a serious termina- 
tion in MSS, III, 87 : ' Say your prayers, with- 
out so much noise.' ' At least put my bones 
in the ground.' And in Puyraaigre : ' I will 
take you to Flanders and have you hanged.' 
4 Leave the gallows for the great robbers of 
France.' The copies, MSS, III, 62, 71, end, 
prosaically, * Jamais je n'ai vu ni fille ni femme 
qui sent la putain com me toi ; ' ( Femme qui 
m'a trompe* la mort a me'rite'e ! ' 

The lace-makers of Vorey are wont to re- 
cite or sing this ballad winter evenings as a 
little drama : V. Smith, Romania, IX, 568, 
note. So the young girls in Lorraine during 
carnival, Puymaigre, I, 263 ; and the young 
fellows in Provence, Arbaud, II, 155 f. 

Italian. * Le repliche di Marion,' Nigra, 
Canti popolari del Piemonte, p. 422, No 85, 
A, B, C. The Piedmontese copies follow the 
French closely, beginning with picking salad 
in the garden, and ending with ' your peace 
is made,' as in Poesies p. de la France, MSS, 
III, 64. 4 I1 marito geloso' (incomplete), 
Ferraro, Canti p. moiiferrini, p. 93, No 70. 
4 La sposa colta in fallo,' Bernoni, Canti p. 
veneziani, puntata ix, No 8, p. 12. (Mariu 
goes on her knees and asks pardon, and is 
told to get up, for pardoned she is.) 4 Bom- 
barion,' Ferrari, first in Giornale di Filologia 
romanza, III, No 7, p. 74, 1880, and then in 
Archivio per le Tradizioni popolari, Canti p. 
in San Pietro Capofiume, VII, 398, 1888 
(peace is made). All the Italian versions keep 
near to the French, having nothing original 
but an unimportant insertion, 4 Chi ti fara la 
minestra ? ' etc., just before the end.* 

* ' Violina, tu hai le gote roue,' a veiy pretty little 
contralto bundled by Tigri with his rispttti (Canti p. UMcani, 



Catalan. < La Trapassera,' Briz y Salt6, 
Cants pop. Catalans, II, 69. Father hears 
daughter talking with lover in the garden ; 
the usual questions and replies ; improved, or 
corrupted, at the end. 

For serious ballads, Scandinavian, Spanish, 
etc., exhibiting similar questions and evasions, 
see * Clerk Saunders,' No 69 P, and the re- 
marks at II, 157 f., 512 a, III, 509 a, IV, 
468 a. The romance ' De Blanca-Nifia ' oc- 

curs in the Cancionero de Romances of 1550. 
The oldest Scandinavian ballad oi the class is 
one of Syv's, printed in 1695. 

Herd, 1776, is translated by Wolff, Halle 
der Volker, I, 96, Hausscbatz, p. 230 ; by 
Fiedler, Geschichte der schottischen Lieder- 
dichtung, I, 82; by Knortz, Schottische Bal- 
laden, p. 82. 

Herd's MSS, 1, 140. 

1 HAME came our goodman, 

And hame came he, 
And then he saw a saddle-horse, 
Where iiae horse should be. 

2 < What 's this now, goodwif e ? 

What 's this I see ? 
How came this horse here, 
Without the leave o me ? ' 

Recitative. * A horse ? ' quo she. 
'Ay, a horse/ quo he. 

3 ' Shame fa your cuckold face, 

HI mat ye flee f 

'T is naething but a broad sow, 
My minnie sent to me/ 

' A broad sow ? ' quo he. 
' Ay, a sow/ quo shee. 

4 * Far hae I ridden, 

And farer hae I gane, 
But a eadle on a sow's back 
I never saw nane.' 

5 Hame came our goodman, 

And hame came he ; 
He spy'd a pair of jack-boots, 
Where nae boots should be. 

p. 284, No 1023, ed. 1856), is a skirmish between father and 
daughter, after the fashion of our ballad (' My cheeks are 
stained with mulberries.' ' Show me the mulberries/ ' They 
are on the hedges.' ' Show me the hedges. 1 ' The goats bay* 

6 < What 's this now, goodwif e ? 

What's this I see? 
How came these boots here, 
Without the leave o me ? ' 

' Boots ? ' quo she. 
' Ay, boots," quo he. 

7 ' Shame fa your cuckold face, 

And ill mat ye see ! 
It 's but a pair of water-stoups, 
My minnie sent to me.' 

' Water-stoups ? ' quo he. 
' Ay, water-stoups,' quo she. 

8 ' Far hae I ridden, 

And farer hae I gane, 
But siller spurs on water-stoups 
I saw never nane.' 

9 Hame came our goodman, 

And hame came he, 
And he saw a sword, 
Whare a sword should na be. 

10 What 's this now, goodwife ? 

What 's this I see ? 
How came this sword here. 
Without the leave o me ? ' 

* A sword ? ' quo she. 
' Ay, a sword/ quo he. 

eaten them.* * Show me the goats,' etc.) Ferrari, in an excel- 
lent paper in the journal referred to above, tries to make out 
some historical relation between the two. He seems to me 
to take ' La Violina ' quite too seriously. 



11 ' Shame fa your cuckold face, 

111 mat ye see! 
It 's bat a porridge-spurtle, 
My Tninnift gent to me/ 


'A spurtle?' quo he. 
* Ay, a spurtle/ quo she. 

'Far hae I ridden, 
And f arer hae I gane, 

But siller-handed spurtles 
I saw never nane.' 

13 Hame came our goodman, 

And hame came he ; 
There he spy'd a powderd wig. 
Where nae wig shoud be. 

14 ' What 's this now, goodwif e ? 

What's this I see? 
How came this wig here, 
Without the leave o me ? ' 

1 A wig ? ' quo she. 
4 Ay, a wig/ quo he. 

15 ' Shame fa your cuckold face, 

And ill mat you see ! 
T is naething but a clocken-hen, 
My minnie sent to me*' 

' Clocken hen ? ' quo he. 
( Ay, clocken hen/ quo she. 

16 Far hae I ridden, 

And farer hae I gane, 
But powder on a clocken-hen 
I saw never nane.' 

17 Hame came our goodman, 

And hame came he, 
And there he saw a muckle coat, 
Where nae coat shoud be. 

18 < What 'ff^his now, goodwif e? 

What's this I see? 

How came ibis coat here) 
Without the leave o me ? ' 

* A coat ? ' quo she. 

' Ay, a coat,' quo he* 

19 ' Shame fa your cuckold face, 

111 mat ye see ! 
It 's but a pair o blankets, 
My minnie sent to me/ 

4 Blankets? 'quo he. 

* Ay, blankets/ quo she. 

20 < Par hae I ridden, 

And farer hae I gane, 
But buttons upon blankets 
I saw never nane.' 

21 Ben went our goodman, 

And ben went he, 
And there he spy'd a sturdy man, 
Where nae man shoud be* 

22 ' What 's this now, goodwif e ? 

What 's this I see ? 
How came this man here, 
Without the leave o me ? ' 

'A man?' quo she. 

* Ay, a man/ quo he. 

23 * Poor blind body, 

And blinder mat ye be ! 
It 's a new milking-maid, 
My mither sent to me/ 

1 A maid ? ' quo he. 
1 Ay, a maid/ quo she. 

24 Par hae I ridden, 

And farer hae I gane, 
But lang-bearded maidens 
I saw never nane.' 




A broadside . Printed and Sold at the Printing-Office in 
Bow Church-Yard, London. 

101 went into the stable, 

and there for to see, 
And there I saw three horses stand, 
by one, by two, and by three. 

201 calld to my loving wife, 

and ' Anon, kind sir ! ' quoth she : 
< what do these three horses here, 
without the leave of me ? ' 

3 ' Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, 

can't you very well see ? 
These are three milking-cows, 
my mother sent to me.' 

4 ' Heyday ! Godzounds ! Milking-cows with 

bridles and saddles on ! 
the like was never known ! ' 
Old Wichet a cuckold went out, 
and a cuckold he came home. 

501 went into the kitchen, 

and there for to see, 
And there I saw three swords hang, 
by one, by two, and by three. 

6 O I calld to my loving wife, 

and ' Anon, kind sir ! ' quoth she : 
' O what do these three swords do here, 
without the leave of me ? ' 

7 * Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, 

can't you very well see ? 

They are three roasting-spits, 

my mother sent to me.' 

8 'Heyday! Godzounds! Roasting spits with 

scabbards on ! 

the like was never known I ' 
Old Wichet a cuckold went out, 
and a cuckold he came home. 

901 went into the parlour, 

and there for to see, 
And there I saw three cloaks hang, 
by one, by two, and by three. 

10 I calld to my loving wife, 

and ' Anon, kind sir ! ' quoth she : 
' what do these three cloaks do here, 
without the leave of me ? ' 

11 ' Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, 

can't you very well see ? 
These are three mantuas, 
my mother sent to me/ 

12 ' Heyday ! Godzounds ! Mantuas with capes 


the like was never known ! ' 
Old Wichet a cuckold went out, 
and a cuckold he came home* 

13 I went into the pantry, 

and there for to see, 

And there I saw three pair of boots hang, 
by one, by two, and by three. 

14 O I called to my loving wife, 

and ' Anon, kind sir ! ' quoth she 
' O what do these three pair of boots do here, 
without the leave of me ? ' 

15 * Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, 

can't you very well see ? 
These are three pudding-bags, 
my mother sent to me.' 

16 ' Heyday ! Godzounds ! Pudding-bags with 

spurs on ! 

the like was never known ! ' 
Old Wichet a cuckold went out, 
and a cuckold he came home. 

17 I went into my closet, 

and there for to see, 

And there I saw three pair of breeches lie, 
by one, by two, and by three. 

18 I calld to my loving wife, 

and ' Anon, kind sir ! ' quoth she : 
'0 what do these three pair of breeches do 

without the leave of me ? ' 

19 * Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, 

can't you very well see ? 
These are three petticoats, 
my mother Bent to me.' 



20 ' Heyday ! Godzounds ! Petticoats with waist- 

bands on ! 

the like was never known ! ' 
Old Wichet a cuckold went out, 
and a cuckold he came home. 

21 I went into the dairy, 

and there for to see, 
And there I saw three hats hang, 
by one, by two, and by three. 

22 I calld to my loving wife, 

and ' Anon, kind sir ! ' quoth she : 
1 Pray what do these three hats do here, 
without the leave of me ? ' 

23 * Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, 

can't you very well see ? 
They are three skimming-dishes, 
my mother sent to me. 1 

24 ' Heyday! Godzounds ! Skimming-dishes with 

hat-bands on ! 
the like was never known I ' 

Old Wichet a cuckold went out, 
and a cuckold he came home. 

25 I went into the chamber, 

and there for to see, 
And there I saw three men in bed lie, 
by one, by two, and by three. 

26 I called to my loving wife, 

and ' Anon, kind sir ! ' quoth she : 
' what do these three men in bed, 
without the leave of me ? * 

27 ' Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, 

don't you very well see ? 
They are three milking-maids, 
my mother sent to me/ 

28 ' Heyday ! Godzounds ! Milking-maids with 

beards on 1 

the like was never known ! ' 
Old Wichet a cuckold went out, 
and a cuckold he came home. 

A. I 1 . Or, Our goodman came hame at een. 
2 1 . Or, How came this horse here ? 
2 a . Or, How can this be ? 

3 1 . Or, Ye aid blind dottled carl. 

3 2 . Or, Blind mat ye be ! 
3 8 . Or, a bonny milk-cow. 

3 4 . My minny is an alternative and necessary 
reading for The miller. 

4 1 . Or, traveUd. 

4 a . Or, And meikle hae I seen. 

4 4 . [Or,] Saw I. 

5 1 . Or, Our goodman came hame. 

7 4 . The cooper sent. 

9-12 At the end, with a direction as to 
place : not completely written out. 

9 1 . Hame, etc. 

10. how. 

12 1 ' 2 . Weel far hae I travelled, 
And muckle hae I seen. 

12 4 . Saw I never nane. 

The regular readings have been inserted or 
substituted. In printing, Herd gave some- 
times the alternative readings, sometimes 

Printed in seven staves, or stanzas, of eight 

long lines. 

I 1 , 2 1 . Oh. 15", 19*. the three. 
Notes and Queries, First Series, VI, 118 

(" Shropshire Ballad "). 

I went into the stable, 

To see what I could see ; 
I saw three gentlemen's horses, 

By one, by two, by three. 

I called to my loving wife, 

* Coming, sir ! ' says she : 
( What meaneth these three horses here, 

Without the leave of me ? ' 

'You old fool ! you blind fool I 

Can't you, won't you, see ? 
They are three milking-cows, 

That my mother sent to me/ 

< Odds bobs, here 's fun ! 

saddles on ! 
The likes I never see! 

Milking-cows with 


I cannot go a mile from home 
Bat a cuckold I must be. 1 

I went into the parlour, 

To see what I could see ; 
I saw there three gentlemen, 

By one, by two, by three. 

I called to my loving wife, 

' Coming, sir ! ' said she : 
' What bringeth these three gentlemen here, 

Without the leave of me ? ' 

< You old fool ! you blind fool ! 

Can't you, won't you, see ? 
They are three milking-maids, 

That my mother sent to me/ 

* Odds bobs, here 's fun ! Milking-maids with 

breeches on ! 
The likes I never see ! 

I cannot go a mile from home 
But a cuckold I must be.' 

The unhappy husband next wanders into the 
pantry, and discovers ' three pairs of hunting- 
boots/ which his spouse declares are 

4 , . . milking-churns, 
Which my mother sent to me.' 

' Odds bobs, here 's fun ! Milking-churns with 
spurs on ! 

The likes I never see ! 
I cannot go a mile from home 

But a cuckold I must be.' 

The gentleman's coats, discovered in the 
kitchen, are next disposed of, but here my 
memory fails me. 


* 'T was on Christmas Day,' found on a slip, " Sold 
at No 42 Long Lane," in a volume in the British 
Museum, 1876. e (not paged, but at what would be 
p. 57), and again in The New Covent Garden Con- 
cert, London, Printed and sold by J. Evans, No 
41 Long-Lane, West Smithfield, Br. Mus. 1077. 
g. 47 (4), dated in the catalogue "1805 ? " 

Twas on Christmas Da^ 

Father he did wed ; 
Three months after that 

My mother was brought to bed. 
My father he came home, 

His head with liquor stord, 
And found in mother's room 

A silver-hiked sword. 

Fiddle de dum de de, etc. 

1 How came this sword here ? ' 
My mother says, says she. 

1 Lovee, 't is a poker 

An tee sent to me.' 
Father he stumbld and star'd ; 

'Twas the first, I ween, 
Silver-headed poker 

He had ever seen. 

Father grumbled on, 

But getting into bed 
Egad ! as luck fell out, 

A man popd up his head; 
1 That 's my milk-maid,' says she ; 

Says dad, * I never heard 
In all my travels yet 

A milk-maid with a beard.' 

My father found a whip, 

And very glad was he ; 
' And how came this whip here, 

Without the leave of me ? ' 
* Oh ! that 's a nice strap-lace 

My antee sent to me ; ' 
Egad I he lac'd her stays, 

And out of doors went she. 





L. a. ' Get up and bar the Door,' Herd, The Ancient 
and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 830; Ancient and 
Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 159. b. [Pinker- 
ton], Select Scotish Ballads, 1783, U, 150. 

B. < John Blunt/ Macmath MS., p. 74. 

C. ' Johnie Blunt/ Johnson's Museum, IV, 376, No 865, 

THE copy in Johnson's Museum, volume 
three, No 300, p. 310, 1790, is A a with two 
slight changes ; that in Ritson's Scotish Song, 
I, 226, 1794, is A a. A b is substituted for 
A a in the third edition of Herd, 1791, II, 63. 
Christie, II, 262, who follows A a, but with 
changes, gives as a refrain, " common in the 
North of Scotland from time immemorial," 

And the barring o our door, 

Weel, weel, weel ! 
And the barring o our door, weel! 

A, B. A housewife is boiling puddings 
anight ; a cold wind blows in, and her hus- 
band bids her bar the door ; she has her hands 
in her work and will not. They come to an 
agreement that whoever speaks first shall bar 
the door. Two belated travellers are guided 
to the house by the light which streams 
through an opening. They come in, and, 
getting no reply to their questions or response 
to their greetings, fall to eating and drinking 
what they find ; the goodwife thinks much, 
but says naught. One of the strangers pro- 
poses to the other to take off the man's beard, 
and he himself will kiss the goodwife. Hot 
water is wanting (for scalding), suggests the 
second; but the boiling pudding -bree will 
serve, answers the first. The goodman calls 
out, Will ye kiss my wife and scald me ? and 
having spoken the first word has to bar the 

C. In man and wife are in bed, and the 
travellers haul the woman out and lay her on 
the floor : this makes the husband give tongue. 

Stenhouse notes that this ballad furnished 
Prince Hoare with the principal scene in his 
musical entertainment of " No Song, no Sup- 
per," produced in 1790, and long a favorite 
on the stage. (Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 

This tale is one of a group which may or 
may not have had a single archetype. Of the 
varieties, that which comes nearest is the first 
story in Straparola's Eighth Day. Husband 
and wife are sitting near the entrance of their 
house one night ; the husband says, It is time 
to go to bed, shut the door ; she says, Shut 
it yourself. They make a compact that the 
one who speaks first shall shut the door. The 
wife, tired of silence and growing sleepy, goes 
to bed ; the husband stretches himself on a 
bench. A gentleman's servant, whose lan- 
tern has been put out by the wind, seeing the 
door open, asks for a light. There is no re- 
ply. Advancing a little way into the house, 
he finds the man lying on the bench with his 
eyes open, but can get no word from him 
though he shakes him. Looking round, he 
sees the woman in bed and addresses her, but 
she is as dumb as her husband ; he gets into 
the bed. The woman says nothing till the 
intruder goes away ; then calls out, A pretty 
man you, to leave the door open all night and 
let people get into your bed. Fool, he says, 
now go shut the door. The same, with in- 
significant divergences, in L'^lite des Contes 
du Sieur d'Ouville, Rouen, 1699, I, 159. 

A wedding-feast over, neither bridegroom 
nor bride will consent to shut the street-door ; 



the lady proposes that the one who speaks 
first shall do this, to which the bridegroom 
agrees. They sit looking at each other in si- 
lence for two hours. Thieves, seeing the door 
open, come in, pillage the house, and even 
strip the young pair of everything valuable 
that they have on them, but neither says a 
word. In the morning a patrol of police find 
the house door open, enter, and make an in- 
spection. The chief demands an explanation 
of the state of things ; neither man nor woman 
vouchsafes a response, and he orders their 
heads off. The executioner is beginning with 
the husband ; the wife cries out, Spare him 1 
the husband exclaims, You have lost, go shut 
the door. (The Arabian tale of Sulayman 
Bey and the Three Story-Tellers, cited by 
Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, II, 29.) 

Hemp-eaters, who have found a sequin and 
bought a mass of food, quarrel about fasten- 
ing the gate of a tomb to which they have 
retired, to gorge unmolested. They come to 
an agreement that the man who first speaks 
shall close the gate. They let the victuals 
stand and sit mute. A troop of dogs rush in 
and eat all up clean. One of the party had 
secured some of the provender in advance of 
the rest, and bits are sticking to his mouth. 
A dog licks them away, and in so doing bites 
the lip of the fellow, who, in his pain, raps 
out a curse on the dog. The rest shout, Get 
up and shut the gate ! (Turkish, Behrnauer, 
Die vierzig Veziere, p. 175 f. ; Gibb, The 
History of the Forty Vezirs, p. 171 f.) 

In the second Pickelheringsspiel, in the 
first part of Engelische Comedien und Tra- 
gedien, 1620, a married pair contend again 
about the shutting of a door. (R. Kohler ; 
not seen by me.) 

In other cases, speaking first entails a pen- 
alty different from shutting a door. 

A young pair, lying in bed the first night 
after marriage, engage that whichever of the 
two gets up first or speaks first shall wash 
the dishes for a week. The husband, pre- 
tending to make his will by the process of 
expressing by signs his acceptance or rejec- 
tion of the suggestions of a friend, bequeaths 
away from his wife a handsome article of 

dress belonging to her. The wife utters a 
protest, and has to wash the dishes. (Novelle 
di Sercambi, ed. d' Ancona, p. 16, No 3, ' De 
simplicitate viri et uxoris.') 

A man complains of dry bread which hifl 
wife has given him for his supper. She tells 
him to get up and moisten it ; he bids her 
do this, but she refuses. It is finally settled 
that the one that speaks first shall moisten 
the bread. A visitor comes in and can make 
neither of them say a word. He kisses the 
wife, gives the husband a blow on the cheek ; 
no word from either. He makes complaint 
to the kazf ; the husband will say nothing 
when brought before the kazf, and is con- 
demned to be hanged. At the moment of 
execution the wife ejaculates, Alas, my un- 
fortunate husband! You devil, says he, go 
home and moisten the bread ! (An Arabian 
story in Beloe'a Oriental Apologues, cited by 
Clouston, II, 21.) 

A shoemaker and his wife agree that the 
one who speaks first shall carry back a frying- 
pan that they have borrowed. A soldier who 
requires a girth for his horse asks the shoe- 
maker to cut him one, but gets no answer, 
though he threatens to take off the man's head. 
Enraged at last, he seizes the shoemaker by 
the head to do what he had menaced, when 
the wife cries out, For mercy's sake, don't I 
Well done ! says the husband, now carry back 
the pan. (Bernoni, Fiabe pop. veneziane, 
p. 67, No 13, * La Scomessa ; ' Crane, Italian 
Popular Tales, p. 284.) 

John makes terms with his wife that 
which of the two eats first of a soup which 
she has brought in, or speaks the first word, 
shall have a beating. William, of whom the 
husband is jealous, comes to offer his com- 
pany to go to a fight which is to come off. 
Man and wife will neither eat nor speak, and 
he thinks them possessed. He takes the 
woman by the hand, and she goes with him. 
John cries out, Let my wife be ! She says, 
John, you have spoken and lost. (Ayrers 
Dramen, ed. von Keller, III, 2006-08.) 

A man who has been taunting his wife as 
a cackler is challenged by her to a trial at 
silence. A tinker comes in asking for kettles 




to mend. He can make neither of them open 
their mouth, and, as a last resource, offers to 
kiss the woman. The husband cannot con- 
tain himself ; the wife says, You have lost I 

and remains mistress of the house, as she had 
been before. (Faroe d'un Chanldronnier, 
Viollet Le Due, Ancien Thlfttre Francois, II, 
109 ff.)* 

a. Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, 
p. 830. b. [Pinkerton], Select Scotch Balladi, 1783, II, 

1 IT fell about the Martinmas time, 

And a gay time it was then, 
When our goodwif e got puddings to make, 
And she 's boild them in the pan. 

2 The wind sae cauld blew south and north, 

And blew into the floor ; 
Quoth our goodman to our goodwif e, 
* Gae out and bar the door/ 

3 ' My hand is in my husayf skap, 

Goodman, as ye may see ; 
An it ahoud nae be barrd this hundred year, 
It 's no be barrd for me.' 

4 They made a paction tween them twa, 

They made it firm and sure, 
That the first word whaeer shoud speak, 
Shoud rise and bar the door. 

5 Then by there came two gentlemen, 

At twelve o clock at night, 
And they could neither see house nor hall, 
Nor coal nor candle-light. 

6 ' Now whether is this a rich man's house, 

Or whether is it a poor ? ' 
But neer a word wad ane o them speak, 
For barring of the door. 

7 And first they ate the white puddings, 

And then they ate the black ; 
Tho muckle thought the goodwif e to hersel, 
Yet neer a word she spake. 

8 Then said the one unto the other, 

* Here, man, tak ye my knife ; 
Do ye tak aff the auld man's beard. 
And I '11 kiss the good wife.' 

9 * But there 's nae water in the house, 

And what shall we do than ? ' 
* What ails ye at the pudding-broo, 
That boils into the pan ? ' 

10 up then started our goodman, 

An angry man was he : 
' Will ye kiss my wife before my een, 
And scad me wi pudding-bree ? ' 

11 Then up and started our goodwif e, 

Gied three skips on the floor : 
' Goodman, you 've spoken the foremost word, 
Get up and bar the door.' 


Mftcmath MS. p. 74. "From the singing of Miss Jane 
Webster, 15th October, 1886, and 26th August, 1887, who 
learned it at Airds of Kella, Kirkcudbrightshire, many 
years ago, from James McJaunet." 

1 THERE leeved a wee man at the fit o yon hill, 
John Blunt it was his name, O 

And he solid liquor and ale o the best, 
And bears a wondrous fame. O 

Tal lara ta lilt, tal lare a lilt, 

Tal lara ta lilt, tai lara 

2 The wind it blew frae north to south, 

It blew into the floor ; 
Says auld John Blunt to Janet the wife, 
Ye maun rise up and bar the door. 

3 ' My bans are in my huflseyskep, 

I canna weel get them free, 
And if ye dinna bar it yersel 
It 11 never be barred by me.' 

* All the abore have been cited by Beinhold Kohler, 
Jahrbnch f ttr romanfoche n. engliache Literatnr, XII, 348 f ., 
or by Clonston, Popular Tales and Fictions, II, 15 if. 



4 They made it up atween them twa, 

They made it unco sure, 
That the ane that spoke the foremost word 
Was to rise and bar the door. 

5 There was twa travellers travelling late, 

Was travelling cross the muir, 
And they cam unto wee John Slant's, 
Just by the light o the door. 

6 ' whether is this a rich man's house, 

Or whether is it a puir ? ' 
But never a word would the auld bodies speak, 
For the barring o the door. 

7 First they bad good een to them, 

And syne they bad good morrow ; 
But never a word would the auld bodies speak, 
For the barring o the door, Q. 

8 first they ate the white puddin, 

And syne they ate the black, 
And aye the auld wife said to hersel, 
May the deil slip down wi that! 

9 And next they drank o the liquor sae strong, 

And syne they drank o the yill : 

* And since we hae got a house o our ain 

I 'm sure we may tak our fill/ 

10 It 's says the ane unto the ither, 

Here, man, tak ye my knife, 
An ye '11 scrape aff the auld man's beard, 
While I kiss the gudewife. 

11 ' Ye hae eaten my meat, ye hae drucken my 

Ye 'd make my auld wife a whore ! ' 

* John Blunt, ye hae spoken the foremost word, 

Ye maun rise up and bar the door.' 

Johnson'i Museum, IV, 376, No 365, 1792. Contributed 
by Robert Burns. 

1 THERE livd a man in yonder glen, 

And John Blunt was his name ; O 
He maks gude maut and he brews gude ale, 
And he bears a wondrous fame. 

2 The wind blew in the hallan ae night, 

Fu snell out oer the moor ; 
* Rise up, rise up, auld Luckie,' he says, 
' Rise up, and bar the door.' 

3 They made a paction tween them twa, 

They made it firm and sure, 
Whaeer sud speak the foremost word 
Should rise and bar the door. 

4 Three travellers that had tint their gate, 

As thro the hills they foor, 
They airted by the line o light 

Fu straught to Johnie Blunt's door. 

5 They haurld auld Luckie out o her bed 

And laid her on the floor, 
But never a word auld Luckie wad say, 
For ban-in o the door. 

6 ' Ye Ve eaten my bread, ye hae drnken my ale, 

And ye '11 mak my auld wife a whore ! ' 
'A ha, Johnie Blunt! ye hae spoke the first 

Get up and bar the door.' 

A. a. Johnson's Museum has these variations : 
2 4 . Gat up and. 

4'. first who should speak the foremost word, 
b. 1 . That our gudewife had. 1*. she boild. 
2 1 . wind blew cauld f rae east 2 4 . Get up and. 
3 1 . hunder. 8 4 . Its neer be barrd by. 
4 s . word whaever spak. 6 1 . come. 
6*. Whan they can see na ither house. 

6 4 . And at the door they light 7*. And syne. 

7*. Tho wanting. 

8 1 . Then ane unto the ither said. 9*. bree. 

II 1 . up then started. 

II 8 . you have spak the first word. 

O is added to the second and fourth lines for 

singing, in both of the Museum copies and 





L a. ' The Fryer well fitted, 1 etc., Rawlinson Ballads, B. a. ' The Friar and Fair Maid/ Buchan'g MSS, II, 
566, fol. 63, 4. b. 'The Fryer well fitted,' etc., 351. b. * The Friar,' Kialoch MSS, VI, 97. c. 
Boxburghe Ballads, II, 172 ; Ebs worth, Roxburghe Kinloch MSS, V, 60. 
Ballads, VII, 222. o. ' The Fryer and the Maid/ 
Wit and Mirth, or, Fills to purge Melancholy, " I, 
840, 1707," HI, 325, 1719. 

THE broadside, A a, b, is found in many 
other collections : Pepys, III, 145, No 143 ; 
Crawford, No 94, etc. (see Ebsworth). B, 
the Scottish ballad (an improvement on the 
English), is without doubt derived from print, 
but not directly from A a, b. In B the maid 
feigns to be afraid of her master, as in A c, 
not of her father. From Halliwell's Notices 
of Fugitive Tracts, p. 87, No 49, Percy So- 
ciety, vol. xxix, we learn that The Royal Gar- 
land of Protestant Delight, London, 1689, has 
a ballad with the title ' The witty lass of Som- 
ersetshire, or the fryer servd in his kind/ with 
an " answer," in the last stanza of which ' the 
inn-keeper, her master,' laughs at the fryer's 

The tune of * The Friar in the Well ' occurs 
in The Dancing Master, from 1650 to 1686: 
Chappell's Popular Music, p. 274. Munday, 
in his * Downfall of Robert, Earl of Hunt- 
ington,' Act iv, Scene 2, 1598, refers to the 
* merry jest . . . how the friar fell into the 
well, for love of Jenny, that fair bonny belle.' 
A reference of Skelton's in his Colyn Cloute * 
carries the story, and almost certainly the bal- 
lad, back to the first quarter of the sixteenth 

The copy in Kinloch's Ballad Book, p. 25, 
was compounded by the editor from B b, o. 

A maid, solicited by a friar, says that she 

* Bat when the fremre fell in the well 
He cond not syng himself e thereat 
But by the helpe of Christyan Clout 

(w. 879-01.) 

fears hell-fire ; the friar reminds her that if 
she were in hell he could sing her out. She 
stipulates for money in advance; while the 
friar is gone to fetch some, she hangs (spreads) 
a cloth before (over) a well. The money in 
hand, she calls out that her father (master) 
is coming ; the friar runs to hide behind the 
cloth (a screen), and falls into the well. The 
friar cries for help ; he is left to sing himself 
out. Extricated after a sufficient cooling, he 
asks his money back, but is told that he must 
pay for fouling the water. 

This story, one might safely say, is not be- 
yond the " imaginary forces " of any Western 
people, but an open well inside of an English 
house is at least of unusual occurrence, and 
if we find something of the kind to our hand 
in an Eastern tale of similar character, a bor- 
rowing seems more plausible than an inven- 
tion. There is a considerable class of tales, 
mostly Oriental, in which a chaste wife dis- 
comfits two or three would-be seducers, bring- 
ing them to shame and ridicule in the end. 
In some, she exacts or receives money from 
her suitors at the outset ; in some, an allega- 
tion that her husband is coming is the pretext 
for her concealing them. An example in 
English is 'The Wright's Chaste Wife/ by 
Adam of Cobsam, edited for the Early English 
Text Society, in 1865, by Dr Furnivall. In 
this, three men successively are tumbled 
through a trap door into an underground 
room. But in the Persian Tutf N&ma, or 
Book of the Parrot, of Nakhahabf , the wife 



lays a bed over a dry well, her suitors are 
invited to sit on it, and they fall in ; and 
here, it is not extravagant to suppose, we 
may have the remote source of the trick in 
our ballad.* 

There is a French ballad of the same gen- 
eral type : 4 Le lourdaud moine,' Tarbe*, Ro- 
mancero de Champagne, II, 135 ; 4 Le moine 
Nicolas,' Bujeaud, II, 284. A monk, enam- 
ored of a married woman, is appointed to 
come to her while her husband is away ; he 
is told to lay off his frock, which she secures, 
and she takes money which he has brought. 
He is then sent to the door to see if the hus- 
band be coming, and is locked out. He asks 
to have his frock and money returned; she 

will keep them for her husband. The con- 
vent jeer at him when he comes back : * Dieu 
be*nisse la commdre qui t'a jou ce tour-la I ' 

4 Munken i Vaande,' a rather flat Danish 
ballad from a MS. of the 16th century, tells of 
a monk who knocks at the door of a woman 
whom he has been courting, and calls to her 
to keep her word ; she tells her husband to 
slip under the bed, and lets the monk in ; the 
monk hands the woman gold rings which he 
had promised ; the goodman comes out and 
gives him a beating ; the monk leaps out of 
the window and goes to his cloister; his 
superior asks why he has been away ; he has 
been shriving the farmer's wife, and it lias 
nearly cost him his life. 

a Rawhnson, 566, fol 63,4 b Roxburphe, II, 172 ; 
Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, VII, 222 c D'Urfey's 
Tills to purge Melancholy, ed 1719, III, 325. 

1 As I lay musing all alone, 

fa, la, la, la, la 
A pretty jeast I thought upon ; 

fa, la, la, la, la 

Then listen a while, and I will you tell 
Of a fryer that loved a bonny lass well. 

fa, la, la, la, la 

fa, la, la, lang-tre-down-dilly 

2 He came to the maid when she went to bed, 
Desiring to have her maidenhead, 

But she denyed his desire, 

And told him that she feard hell-fire. 

3 * Tush/ quoth the fryer, ' thou needst not 


If thou wert in hell I could sing thee out 
1 Then,' quoth the maid, 4 thou shalt have thy 

request ; ' 
The fryer was glad as a fox in his nest. 

4 ' But one thing,* quoth she, ' I do desire, 
Before you have what you require ; 

* For the class of tales referred to, see von der Ilagen, 
Gcsamratabenteuer, III, xxxv 1, LXXXIII f. , Reinhold 
Kohler, in Jahrbuch fur romanische und englische Litera- 

Before that you shall do the thing, 
An angel of mony thou shalt me bring/ 

5 ' Tush,' quoth the fryer, < we shall agree, 
No inony shall part my love and me ; 
Before that I will see thee lack, 

1 'le pawn the grey gown from my hack.' 

6 The maid bethought her of a wile 
How she the fryer might beguile ; 
While he was gone, the truth to tell, 
She hung a cloth before the well. 

7 The fryer came, as his covenant was, 
With money to his bonny lass ; 

1 Good morrow, fair maid ! ' i Good morrow ! ' 

quoth she. 
( Here is the mony I promised thee.' 

8 She thankt the man, and she took his mony : 

4 Now let us go to 't,' quoth he, 4 sweet hony : ' 
' O stay/ quoth she, ' some respite make, 
My father comes, he will me take.' 

9 k Alas ! ' quoth the fryer, 4 where shall I run, 
To hide me till that he be gone ? ' 

* Behinde the cloath run thou,' quoth she, 
' And there my father cannot thee see.' 

tur, VIII, 44-65; Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, 
II, 289-310. 



10 Behind the eloath the fryer crept, 

And into the well on the sudden he leapt;* 

4 Alas/ quoth he, 'I am in the well! ' 

' No matter/ quoth she, * if thou wert in hell. 

11 ' Thou sayst thou couldst sing me out of hell, 
Now prithee sing thy self out of the well : ' 
The fryer sung with a pittif ul sound, 

Oh help me out, or I shall be dround ! 

12 * I trow/ quoth she, 'your courage is coold.' 
Quoth the fryer, I was never so f oold, 

I never was served so before. 
4 Then take heed/ quoth she, ' thou comst there 
no more.' 

13 Quoth he, For sweet Saint Francis sake 
On his disciple some pitty take : 

Quoth she, Saint Francis never taught 

His scholars to tempt young maids to naught 

14 The fryer did entreat her still 

That she should help him out of the well ; 
She heard him make such pittious moan 
She helpd him out, and bid him be gone. 

15 Quoth he, Shall I have my mony again, 
Which thou from me hast beforehand tane ? 

( Good sir/ said she, ' there 's no such matter ; 
I 'le make you pay for fouling my water/ 

16 The fryer went all along* the street, 
Droping wet, like a new-washd sheep ; 
Both old and young commended the maid 
That such a witty prank had plaid. 


a. Bnchan'i MSB, H, 351. b. Kinloch MSS, VI, 97, in 
Kinloch'a handwriting, o. Einloch MSS, V, 60, in Che 
handwriting of James Beattie. 

1 HEARKEN and hear, and I will you tell 

Sing, Faldidae, faldidadi 
Of a friar that loved a fair maiden well 
Sing, Faldi dadi di di (bis) 

2 The friar he came to this maiden's bedside, 
And asking for her maidenhead. 

3*01 would grant you your desire, 
If 't werena for fear o hell's burning fire.' 

4 ' hell's burning fire ye need have no doubt ; 
Altho you were in, I could whistle you out 1 

5 *Q if I grant to you this thing, 
Some money you unto me must bring.' 

6 He brought her the money, and did it down 

She had a white cloth spread over the well. 

7 Then the fair maid cried out that her master 

was come ; 
< O/ said the friar, ' then where shall I run ? ' 

8 * ye will go in behind yon screen, 

And then by my master ye winna be seen.' 

9 Then in behind the screen she him sent, 
But he fell into the well by accident. 

10 Then the friar cried out with a piteous moan, 
help ! help me I or else I am gone. 

11 ' Ye said ye wad whistle me out o hell ; 
Now whistle your ain sel out o the well.' 

12 She helped him out and bade him be gone ; 
The friar he asked his money again. 

13 ( As for your money, there is no much matter 
To make you pay more for jumbling our water.' 

14 Then all who hear it commend this fair maid 
For the nimble trick to the friar she played. 

15 The friar he walked on the street, 

And shaking his lugs like a well-washen sheep. 



A. a, b. The Fryer well fitted, OP, 
A pretty jest that once befell, 
How a Maid put a Fryer to cool in the well. 
To a merry tune. 

a. London. Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and 

J. Wright. 

b. Printed for W. Thackeray and T. Passinger. 

a. 3 1 ' 8 , 7', 8 s *', 9 1 * 8 , 10', 12*, qd./or quoth. 
7', qd. he. 8 f . too't. 8 1 . Oh. 

10 1 . did crept. 16 2 . Drooping. 

b. 6*. my grey. 7 1 . quoth she. 10 1 . fryer crept. 

10 2 . on a. 11*. sung on. 12 a . never was. 
14 3 . she would. 16 a . Which from me thou. 
16 a . Dropping. 

0. The variations are insignificant until we 
come to 8 8 ; from that point this copy 
(which is abridged} runs as follows : 
8 8 . ' Nay, stay a while, some respite make ; 
If my master should come he would us 

9. ' Alas/ quoth the maid, ' my master doth 

come ! ' 

' Alas ! ' quoth the fryer, < where shall I 

* Behind yon cloth run thou/ quoth she, 

* For there my master cannot see.* 

10. Behind the cloth the fryer went, 
And was in the well incontinent. 

Alas,' quoth he, * I 'm in the well ! * 
' No matter,' quoth she, * if thou wert in 

II 1 ' 8 . ' Thou saidst thou could sing me out of 


I prithee sing thy self out of the well. 
Sing out,' quoth she, ' with all thy might, 
Or else thou'rt like to sing there all 


II 1 ' 4 . The fryer sang out with a pitiful sound, 
Oh help me out, or I shall be drownd ! 

14 M . She heard him make such pitiful moan 
She hope [ = holp] him out and bid him 
go home. 

12 M . Quoth the fryer, I never was servd so 

before : 

* Away/ quoth the wench, ' come here 
no more.' 

16 1 -*. The fryer he walkd along the street 
As if he had been a new-washd sheep* 

Sing, hey down a deny, and let 's be 

And from such Bin ever keep. 

The fa la burden is not given. 

B. b. Apparently a revised by Kinloch. 
4 2 . sing/or whistle. 7 2 . then wanting. 
10 1 . a wanting. 15 a . sheet for sheep. 

C. 1. Listen and I will you tell 

Wi a f alaldirry, falaldirry 
How a friar in love wi a lassie fell. 
Wi a f alee and latee and a lee-tiddle- 

7. The lassie cries, My master comes ! 
The friar cries, Where shall I run ? 

8. ( you '11 do you in below this cloth ; 
That you be seen I wad be loth/ 

10. The friar cries, I 'm in the well I 
* I care na tho you were in hell. 

11. 4 You said you w[a]d sing me out of hell ; 
Sing yoursell out o the well.' 

12. * If you '11 help me out, I will be gone, 
Back to you I '11 neuer come.' 

She helped him out, and he was begone ; 
Back to her he never came. 

15. The frier he gaed up the street, 

Hanging his lugs like a washen sheet 

2-6, 9, 13, 14, wanting. 





A. a. ' Sweet Robin, 1 Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, C. ( The Cooper of Fife/ Whitelaw, The Book of Scot- 
319. b. Macmath MS., p. 100, three stanzas. tish Song, p. 338. 

B. ' Robin he 'B gane to the wude,' Harris MS., fol. D. Jamieson- Brown MS., Appendix, p. iii. 
26 b. 

E. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 324. 

JAMTESOK cites the first two stanzas of A a 
in a letter of inquiry to The Scots Magazine, 
October, 1808, p. 700, and the first half of D 
(with alterations) in his preface, Popular 
Ballads, I, 320. The ballad, he says, is very 
popular all over Scotland. 

Robin has married a wife of too high kin 
to bake or brew, wash or wring. He strips 
off a wether's skin and lays it on her back, 
or prins her in it. He dares not beat her, 
for her proud kin, but he may beat the we- 
ther's skin, and does. This makes an ill wife 

A fragment in Herd's MSS, 1, 105, II, 161, 
belongs, if not to this ballad, at least to one 
in which an attempt is made to tame a shrew 
by castigation. 

' Now tak a cad in ilka hand 
And bace * her up and doun, man, 

And she '11 be an o the best wives 
That ever took the town, man/ 

* Bace in the second copy, rightly, that is, bash, beat ; 
bare in the first (probably mistranscribed). 

t A merry jeste of a shrewde and curate wyfe lapped m 
Morrelles skin for her good behauyour, Imprinted at Lon- 
don in Fleetestreete, beneath the Conduite, at the signe of 
Saint John Euangelist, by H. Jackson ; without date, but 
earlier than 1575, since the book was in Captain Cox's 
library. Heprinted in Utterson's Select Pieces of Early 
Popular Poetry, 1825, II, 169; The Old Taming of the 
Shrew, edited by T. Amyot for the Shakespeare Society, 
1844, p. 53 ; W. C. Hazlitt's Early Popular Poetry, IV, 179. 

And Jammie 's turnd him round about, 

He 's done a manly feat : 
' Get up, get up, ye dirty slut, 

And gie to me my meat.' 

'Say 't oer again, say 't oer again, 

Ye thief, that I may hear ye ; 
I 'se gar ye dance upon a peat, 

Gin I sail cum but near ye.' 

The story of the ballad was in all likeli- 
hood traditionally derived from the good old 
tale of the wife lapped in Morrel's skin.f 
Herfe a husband, who has put up with a great 
deal from an excessively restive wife, flays 
his old horse Morrell and salts the hide, takes 
the shrew down cellar, and, after a sharp con- 
test for mastery, beats her with birchen rods 
till she swoons, then wraps her in the salted 
hide : by which process the woman is perfectly 

t These passages are worth noting : 

She can carde, she can spin, 

She can thresh and she can fan, (v. 419 f.) 

In euery hand a rod he gate 

And layd vpon her a right good pace. (v. 955 f.) 

Where art thou, wife ? shall I haue any meate ? ( v. 889. ) 

(Compare Herd's fragments with the last two, and with 



Jamieson'fl Popular Ballads, 1, 319 " From the recitation 
of a friend of the editor's in Morayahire." 

1 SHE wadna bake, she wadna brew, 

Hollin, green hollin 
For spoiling o her comely hue. 
Bend your bow, Robin 

2 She wadna wash, she wadna wring, 
For spoiling o her gay goud ring. 

3 Robin he 's gane to the f aid 

And catched a weather by the spauld. 

4 And he has killed his weather black 
And laid the skin upon her back. 

6 ' I darena pay you, for your kin, 
But I can pay my weather's skin. 

6 ' I darena pay my lady's back, 
But I can pay my weather black.' 

7 '0 Robin, Robin, latmebe, 
And I'll a good wife be to thee. 

8 'It's I will wash, and I will wring, 
And never mind my gay goud ring. 

9 at 's I will bake, and I will brew, 
And never mind my comely hue. 

10 ' And gin ye thinkna that eneugh, 

I 'ae tak the goad and I 'se ca the pleugh. 

11 ' Gin ye ca for mair whan that is doon, 

I '11 sit i the neuk and I '11 dight your shoon.' 


Harris MS., fol. 26 b, No 25, from Miss Hams 

1 ROBIN he 's gane to the wast, 

Hollin, green hollin 
He 's waled a wife amang the warst. 
Bend your bows, Robin 

2 She could neither bake nor brew, 
For spoilin o her bonnie hue. 

3 She could neither spin nor caird, 
But fill the cup, an sair the laird. 

4 She could neither wash nor wring, 
For spoilin o her gay goud ring. 

6 Robin 's sworn by the rude 
That he wald mak an ill wife gude. 

VOL. V. 14 

6 Robin he 's gaun to the faold, 

An taen his blaik [wither] by the spauld. 

7 He 's taen aff his wither's skin 
An he has preened his ain wife in. 

8 ' I daurna beat my wife, for a' her kin, 
But I may beat my wither's skin.' 

9 ' I can baith bake an brew ; 
What care I for my bonnie hue ? 

10 ' I can baith wash an wring ; 
What care I for my gay gowd ring ? 

11 * I can baith spin an caird ; 
Lat onybodie sair the laird.' 

12 Robin 's sworn by the rude 

That he has made an ill wife gude. 



Whitelaw'B Book of Scottish Song, p. 888. 

1 THBBE was a wee cooper who lived in Fife, 

Nickity, nackity, noo, noo, noo 
And he has gotten a gentle wife. 

Hey Willie Wallacky, how John Dougall, 
Alane, quo Rushety, roue, rone, rone 

2 She wadna bake, nor she wadna brew. 
For the spoiling o her comely hue. 

3 She wadna card, nor she wadna spin, 
For the shaming o her gentle kin* 

4 She wadna wash, nor she wadna wring, 
For the spoiling o her gouden ring. 

5 The cooper 's awa to his woo-pack 

And has laid a sheep-skin on his wife's back. 

6 ' It 's I '11 no thrash ye, for your proud kin, 
But I will thrash my ain sheep-skin.' 

7 < Oh, I will bake, and I will brew, 

And never mair think on my comely hue. 

8 'Oh, I will card, and I will spin, 

And never mair think on my gentle kin. 

9 Oh, I win wash, and I will wring, 

And never mair think on my gouden ring/ 

10 A' ye wha hae gotten a gentle wife 
Send ye for the wee cooper o Fife. 

Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. iii, letter of B. Scott 
to Jamieson, Jane 9, 1805. 

1 THERE livd a laird down into Fife, 

Riftly, raftly, now, now, now 
An he has married a bonny young wife. 
Hey Jock Simpleton, Jenny['s] white petti- 
Robin a Rashes, now, now, now 

2 He courted her and he brought her hame, 
An thought she would prove a thrifty dame. 

3 She could neither spin nor caird, 

But sit in her chair and dawt the laird. 

4 She wadna bake and she wadna brew, 
An a* was for spoiling her delicate hue. 

5 She wadna wash nor wad she wring, 
For spoiling o her gay goud ring. 

6 But he has taen him to his sheep-f auld, 
An taen the best weather by the spauld. 

7 Aff o the weather he took the skin, 
An rowt his bonny lady in. 

8 ' I dare na thump you, for your proud kin, 
But well sail I lay to my ain weather's skin. 1 


Jamieson'i Popular Ballads, I, 894. 

1 THERE lives a landart laird in Fife, 

And he has married a dandily wife. 

2 She wadna shape, nor yet wad she sew, 
But sit wi her cummers and fill hersell f u. 

4 He is down to his sheep-f aid 

And cleekit a weather by the back-pald. 

5 He 's whirpled aff the gude weather's-skin 
And wrappit the dandily lady therein. 

6 ' I darena pay you, for your gentle kin, 
But weel I may skelp my weather's-skin/ 

3 She wadna spin, nor yet wad she card, 
But she wad sit and crack wi the laird. 



A. a. The refrain, altered by Jamieson, has been 
restored from his preface. Five stanzas 
added by him at the end have been dropped. 
b. From the recitation of Miss Agnes Macmath, 
29th April, 1893 ; learned by her from her 
mother, who had it from her mother, Janet 
Spark, Kirkcudbrightshire. 

2. She could na wash and she could na wring, 

Hey, Wullie Wyliecot, noo, noo, noo 
For the spoiling o her gay gold ring. 

Wi my Hey, Wullie Wyliecot, tengie 


That robes in the rassiecot, noo, noo, noo 
(Refrain perhaps corrupt.) 

3. He 'B gane oot unto the f add, 

He 'B catched a wather by the spauL 

5. ' I darena thrash ye, for yer kin, 
But I may thrash my ain wather-akin.' 


L. The Farmer's Old Wife/ Dixon, Ancient Poems, 
Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 

210, Percy Society, vol. xvii. The same in Bell, 
p. 204. 

B. Macmath MS., p. 96. 

THE devil comes for a farmer's wife and is 
made welcome to her by the husband. The 
woman proves to be no more controllable in 
hell than she had been at home; she kicks 
the imps about, and even brains a set of them 
with her pattens or a maul. For safety's sake, 
the devil is constrained to take her back to her 

B. The ballad of ' Kelly burnbraes,' John- 
son's Museum, No 379, p. 392, was composed 
by Burns, as he has himself informed us, " from 
the old traditional version." " The original 
ballad, still preserved by tradition," says 
David Laing, u was much improved in pass- 
ing through Burns's hands : " Museum, IV, 
*389, 1853. Cromek, Remains of Nithsdale 
and Galloway Song, p. 83, 1810, gives us 
what he calls the " Original of Burns's Carle 
of Kelly-Burn Braes," remarking, with some 
effrontery, that there is reason to believe that 
Burns had not seen the whole of the verses 
which constitute this copy. Allan Cunning, 
ham, Songs of Scotland, II, 199, undertook 

" to make a more complete version than has 
hitherto appeared " out of Burns, Cromek, 
and some " fugitive copies." So we get the 
original from none of them, but are, rather, 
further from it at each step. Whether B has 
come down pure, unaffected by Burns and 
Cromek, it is impossible to say. That it 
shows resemblances to both copies is not 
against its genuineness, if there was a fair 
leaven of the popular ballad in each of these 
reconstructions ; and it is probable that there 
would be, at least in Burns's. 

A curst wife who was a terror to demons is 
a feature in a widely spread and highly hu- 
morous tale, Oriental and European. See 
Benfey, Pantschatantra, I, 519-34 ; and, for 
a variety which is, at the beginning, quite 
close to our ballad, Ralston, Russian Folk- 
Tales, p. 39 (Afanasief, I, No 9). 

Cromek's ballad is translated by Wolff, 
Halle der Volker, I, 93, Hausschatz, p. 230. 



Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs, p. 210, Percy 
Society, vol xvii. 

1 THEBB was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell, 

(Chorus of whistlers) 

There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell, 
And he had a bad wife, as many knew well. 

(Chorus of whistlers) 

2 Then Satan came to the old man at the plough : 
( One of your family I must have now. 

3 ( It is not your eldest son that I crave, 

But it is your old wife, and she I will have.' 

4 ' welcome, good Satan, with all my heart ! 
I hope you and she will never more part/ 

5 Now Satan has got the old wife on his back, 
And he lugged her along, like a pedlar's pack. 

6 He trudged away till they came to his hall-gate ; 
Says he, Here, take in an old Sussex chap's 


7 then she did kick the young imps about ; 
Says one to the other, Let 'a try turn her out. 

8 She spied thirteen imps all dancing in chains, 
She up with her pattens and beat out their 


9 She knocked the old Satan against the wall : 
' Let 's turn her out, or she '11 murder us all. 1 

10 Now he 's bundled her up on his back amain, 
And to her old husband he took her again, 

11 ' I have been a tormentor the whole of my 


But I neer was tormented so as with your 


Macmath MS., p. 96. Taken down by Mr Macmath 
from the recitation of his aunt, Miss Jane Webster, Cross, 
michael, Kirkcudbrightshire, August 27th, 1892; learned 
many years ago, at Airds of Kells, from the singing of 
Samuel Galloway. 

1 THE auld Deil cam to the man at the plough, 

Bumchy ae de aidie 
Saying, I wish ye gude luck at the making o 

Mushy toorin an ant tan aira. 

2 * It 's neither your oxen nor you that I crave ; 
It 's that old scolding woman, it 's her I must 


3 ' Te 're welcome to her wi a* my gude heart ; 
I wish you and her it 's never may part' 

4 She jumped on to the auld Deil's back, 
And he carried her awa like a pedlar's pack. 

5 He carried her on till he cam to hell's door, 
He gaed her a kick till she landed in the 


6 She saw seven wee deils a sitting in a raw, 
She took up a mell and she murdered them a'. 

7 A wee reekit deil lookit owre the wa : 
* tak her awa, or she '11 ruin us a'/ 

8 ' what to do wi her I canna weel tell ; 

She 's no fit for heaven, and she '11 no bide in 

9 She jumpit on to the auld Deil's back, 
And he carried her back like a pedlar's pack. 

10 She was seven years gaun, and seven years 

And she cried for the sowens she left in the pot. 




A. ' Ther was a wife in yon toun,' " Old Lady's Col- 
lection," No 36. 

B. a. ' The Jolly Beggar/ Herd, The Ancient and 
Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 46 ; ed. 1776, II, 26. 

b. < The Jolly Beggars,' Curious Tracts, Scotland, 
British Museum, 1078. m. 24. No 30 (a collection 
made by James Mitchell at Aberdeen in 1828). 
o. ' The Jolly Beggar-Man/ Macmath MS., p. 108, 
a fragment d. The same, a fragment 

I HAVE not found this piece in any printed 
collection older than Herd, 1769, bat it is 
cited in the second edition of Percy's Reliques, 
1767, II, 59 (preface to The Gaberlunyie- 
Man '), and was known before that to Horace 
Walpole, wbo, as Percy remarks, confounds 
it with * The Gaberlunyie-Man,' or gives it 
that title: Catalogue of Royal and Noble 
Authors, II, 202 f., second edition, 1759 (not 
mentioned in the first edition). It was prob- 
ably in circulation as a flying-sheet.* 

We are regularly informed by editors that 
tradition imputes the authorship of both 'The 
Jolly Beggar' and *The Gaberlunyie-Man' 
to James Fifth of Scotland. 4 The Gaberlun- 
yie-Man ' was, so far as can be ascertained, 
first printed in the Tea-Table Miscellany (in 
1724), and I am not aware that it is men- 
tioned anywhere before that date. Ramsay 
speaks of it as an old piece, but says nothing 
about the authorship. The tradition as to 
James Fifth is, perhaps, not much older than 
the publication in either case, and has no 
more plausibility than it has authority. 

The copies in Pinkerton's Select Scotish 
Ballads, II, 85, 1788, Johnson's Museum, 
p. 274, No 266, 1790, Ritson's Scotish Songs, 
1, 168, 1794, etc., are all from Herd's second 
edition, 1776. In this we have, instead of 

* And may hare been omitted by Ramsay because he 
"kept oat all ribaldry" from the Tea-Table Miscellany. 
This is not a Tea-Table Miscellany, and I have no discre- 

the Fa la la burden, the following, presuma- 
bly later (see Herd's MSS, I, 5) : 
And we '11 gang nae mair a roving, 

Sae late into the night. 
And we '11 gang nae mair a roving, boys, 

Let the moon shine neer aae bright, 
And we '11 gang nae mair a roving. 

Motherwell's MS., p. 124, has a recited 
copy which seems to be B a as in Herd, 1776, 
corrupted by oral transmission. It does not 
seriously differ from the original until we 
come to the end, where we find an absurd 
stanza which is derived from B b. 

The variations of B b are not the accidents 
of tradition, but deliberate alterations. ' The 
Jovial Beggarman,' in The Forsaken Lover's 
Garland, No 15 of a collection of garlands, 
British Museum, 11621. e. 1 ("Newcastle? 
1750 ? "), is a rifacimento, and a very inferior 
piece. Of this Rev. S. Baring-Gould took 
down a copy from the singing of a laborer 
on Dartmoor, in 1889.f 

' The Jovial Tinker and Farmer's Daugh- 
ter,' British Museum, 1846. m. 7 (81), 'The 
Tinker and Farmer's Daughter's Garland, 9 
British Museum, 11621. a. 6 (84), is another 
rtfacimento, with less of the original in it. 
The tinker, we are told at the outset, is a 
noble lord disguised. 

t I owe my knowledge of all of these three copies to Mr 
Baring-Gould. He informs me that the ballad which he 
took down is sung thoughout Cornwall and Devon. 



An English broadside ballad of the second 
half of the seventeenth century, Pepys, III, 
78, No 71, has the same story as the Scottish 
popular ballad, and may have been the foun- 
dation of it, but the Scottish ballad is a far 
superior piece of work. The English broad- 
side is given, substantially, in the notes. 

'Der Bettelman,' Hoffmann u. Richter, 
Schlesische Volkslieder, p. 45, No 24, has a 
generic resemblance to this ballad.* So, more 
remotely, a Flemish ballad, ' Ein sohoner 
Kriippel,' Hoffmann, Niederlandische Volks- 
lieder, p. 129 and elsewhere. Again, a very 
pretty and innocent Portuguese ballad, 'O 

Cego,' Almeida-Garrett, HI, 191, No 86, 
Braga, Romanceiro Geral, p. 147, No 55, and 
Cantos pop. do Archipelago Agoriano, p. 872, 
No 76 (all in Hartung, II, 108 ff.), which 
Almeida-Garrett, quite extravagantly, sup- 
posed might be derived from ' The Gaberlun- 
yie-Man,' brought home from Scotland by 
Portuguese sailors. There is an accidental 
similarity in one or two points with the Span- 
ish ballad * Tiempo es, el caballero,' Duran, 
1, 168, No 807, Primavera, II, 91, No 158. 

* The Gaberlunyie-Man ' is given in an 

"Old Lady's Collection/' No 36. 

1 ' THEB is a wife in yone toun-end, an she has 

dothers three, 
An I wad he a beager for ony of a' the three.' 

2 He took his clouty clok him about, his peak- 

staff in his hand, 
An he is awa to yon toun-end, leak ony peare 

3 * I ha ben about this fish-toon this years tua 

or three, 

Ha ye ony quarters, deam, that ye coud gie 

4 ' Awa, ye pear carl, ye dinne kean my name ; 
Ye sudd ha caed me mistress fan ye called me 

bat deam.' 

5 He take his hat in his hand an gied her juks 


' An ye want manners, misstres, quarters ye 11 
gie me.' 

6 * Awa, ye pear carle, in ayont the fire, 

An sing to our Lord Gray's men to their 
hearts' disire.' 

7 Some lowked to his goudie lowks, some to his 

milk-whit skine, 

Some to his ruffled shirt, the gued read gold 
hang in. 

8 Out spak our madin, an she was ay shay, 
Fatt will the jolly beager gett afore he gaa to 


9 Out spak oar gondwife, an she was not sae 


He 'se gett a dish of lang keil, besids a pass 

10 Oat spak the jolly beager, That dish I dou de- 

I canne sup yer lang kell nor yet yer puss pay* 

11 Bat ye gett to my sapper a capon of the best, 
Tuo or three bottels of yer wine, an bear, an 

we sail ha a merry feast 

12 ' Ha ye ony siler, carll, to bint the bear an 

wine? ' 
< O never a peney, misstress, had I lang sine.' 

13 The beager wadne lay in the barn, nor yett in 

the bayr, 
Bat in ahind the haa-dor, or att the kitchen-fire. 

* Other copies, which an rather nnmerotui, much leu : 
Norrenberg, Des diilkener Fiedlers Liederbuch, p. 10, No 13 ; 
Peter 1, 182 ; Uhlaod, No 285, p. 737 ; Hanpt a. Schmaler, 
I, 102, No 67 ; etc. See Hoffmann's notes, pp. 46, 47 ; Ba- 

rack, Zimmerische Chronik, 2d ed,, II, 111, and Liebrecht's 
note, Gennania, XIV, 38 ; Schade, Weimarisches Jahrbnoh, 
III, 259 ft, 465 ff. 



14 The beager's bed was well [made] of gued 
clean stray an hay, 

15 The madin she rose up to bar the dor, 

An ther she spayed a naked man, was rinen 
throu the flour. 

16 He tuke her in his arms an to his bed he 


' Hollie we me, sir/ she says, ' or ye '11 waken 
our pear man/ 

17 The begger was a cuning carle, an never a 

word he spake 

Till he got his turn dean, an sayn began to 

18 ' Is ther ony dogs about this toun ? madin, tell 

me nou : ' 

' Fatt wad ye dee we them, my hony an my 

19 ' They wad ravie a* my meall-poks an die me 

mukell wrang : * 
* O doll for the deaing o it ! are ye the pear 

20 ' I thought ye had ben some gentelman, just 
leak the leard of Brody ! 

I am sorry for the doing o itt ! are ye the 
pore boddie ? ' 

21 She tuke the meall-poks by the strings an 

thrue them our the waa : 
' Doll gaa we meall-poks, madinhead an a' ! ' 

22 She tuke him to her press, gave him a glass of 

wine ; 

He tuke her in his arms, says, Honey, ye 'ss be 

23 He tuke a horn f ra his side an he blue loud 

an shill, 

An four-an-tuenty belted knights came att the 
beager's will. 

24 He tuke out a pean-kniff, lute a' his dudes f aa, 
An he was the braest gentelman that was 

among them a'. 

25 He patt his hand in his poket an gaa her ginnes 


An four-an-tuenty hunder mark, to pay the 
nires feea. 

26 * Gin ye had ben a gued woman, as I thought 

ye had ben, 

I wad haa made ye lady of castels eagbt or 

a. Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p 
46 b. Carious Tracts, Scotland, British Museum, 1078, m 
24, No SO 

1 THERE was a jolly beggar, and a begging he 

was bound, 
And he took up his quarters into a landart 

Fa la la, etc. 

2 He wad neither ly in barn, nor yet wad he in 

But in ahint the ha-door, or else afore the fire. 

3 The beggar's bed was made at een wi good 

clean straw and hay, 

And in ahint the ha-door, and there the beggar 

4 Up raise the goodman's dochter, and for to 

bar the door, 

And there she saw the beggar standin i the 

5 He took the lassie in his arms and to the bed 

he ran, 

' O hooly, hooly wi me, sir ! ye '11 waken our 

6 The beggar was a cunnin loon, and neer a word 

he spake 

Until he got his turn done, syne he began to 

7 * Is there ony dogs into this town ? maiden, tell 

me true.' 

' And what wad ye do wi them, my hinny and 
my dow ? ' 



8 * They '11 rive a' my mealpocks, and do me 

meikle wrang.' 

'0 dool for the doing o't! are ye the poor 
man? 1 

9 Then she took up the mealpocks and flang 

them oer the wa : 

* The d 1 gae wi the mealpocks, my maiden- 
head and a' ! 

10 ' I took ye for some gentleman, at least the 

Laird of Brodie ; 

dool for the doing o't! are ye the poor 

11 He took the lassie in his arms and gae her 

kisses three, 

And four-and-twenty bonder merk to pay the 

12 He took a horn f rae his side and blew baith 

loud and shrill, 

And four-and-twenty belted knights came 
skipping oer the hill* 

13 And he took out his little knife, loot a' his 

duddies fa, 

And he was the brawest gentleman that was 
amang them a'. 

14 The beggar was a diver loon and he lap shoul- 

der height : 

'0 ay for sicken quarters as I gat yester- 
night ! ' 

JL 6 disere. 

9 a . puss might be russ here, but is unques- 
tionable in the next stanza. 
24 3 . blaest/or braest. 26 2 . ninge (nigne may 

be what was intended). 

B. b. A slip with no imprint. Dated in the Mu- 
seum catalogue 1800 ? 

1 There was a jolly beggar, and a begging he had 


With his fal de diddle de dal dal 
And he took up his quarters in a house in Aber- 
With his toran oran ad de odi 

2 This beggar would not lye in barn nor yet would 

he in byre, 

Bat he would lye into the ha, or beyond the kitchen- 

3 The beggar's bed it was well made, with clean 

straw and hay, 

And beyond the kitchen-fire, there the jolly beggar 

4 The lassie then she did get up to bar the kitchen- 


An there she met the jolly beggar, standing naked 
on the floor. 

5 He gript the lassie by the middle jimp, laid her 

against the wa, 

' O kind sir,' she said, 'be civil, for ye will wake 
my dadda.' 

6 He never minded what she said, but carried on his 

Till he got his job done, then he began to joke. 

7 ' Have you got any dogs about the house, or any 

cats ava? 

For I 'm feared she '11 cut my mealpocks before I 
gang awa. 1 

8 The lassie took up the mealpocks, threw them 

against the wa, 

'Odeil tak your mealpocks! my maidenhead's 

9 The lassie she got up again the hour before 't was 


For to gie the beggar hansel before he went 

10 She went into the cellar, to draw a pot of ale, 
The beggar followed after, and did the job again. 

11 He laid her on the ringle-tree, and gave her kisses 


And he gave her twenty guineas, to pay the nurse's 

12 ' Had you been an honest lass, as I took you to be, 
You might have rode in your carriage and gone 

along with me/ 

18 The beggar he took a horn and blew it wondrous 

shrill ; 

There was four-and-twenty belted knights came 
riding oer the hill. 



14 'Now if you are afraid you should miscall your 


You may call him for the daddy o't, the great 
Duke of Argyle.' 

V. jelly: but 3, 4 s , jolly. 

3 1 . hay and straw. 

9 1 . hours. 

13 2 . kinpa for knights. 

There are many other misprints ; some, per- 
haps, which are not corrected, as she '11 
cut, 7 J . 

The copy in MotherwdVs MS, p. 124, ends : 

He touted oure the saddle to her and gave her 

kisses three, 
And he gave her fifty guineas, to pay the 


* Oh had you been an honest maid, as I thocht 

ye wud hae been, 
I would have made you lady of a' the land, 

and then the Scotish queen/ 

B. O. From the recitation of Miss Jane Webster, 
Crossmichael, August 8, 1893 ; learned by 
her many years ago from her mother, Janet 

1 There was a jolly beggar, as mony a ane 

has been, 
An he 's taen up his lodging in a house near 


Wi his yi yi yanti O, his eerie eerie an 
Wi his fine tan taraira, the jolly beggar- 

4 Up rose the farmer's daughter, for to bar 

the door, 

There she beheld a naked man, was stand- 
ing on the floor. 

7 * Hae ye ony eats or dogs, or hae ye eer a 


I 'm feared they rive my meal-pokes, when 
I am kissing you.' 

9 She 's taen up his meal-pokes an thrown 

them owre the wa : 

1 the deil gang wi your meal-pokes ! for 
my maidenhead 's awa.' 

' It 's fare ye weel, gudewif e, an it 's fare 

ye weel, gudeman, 
Te hae a gude fat doughter, an I rattled on 

her pan. 

b. 12 < If she had been an honest lass, as I took 

her to be, 

She micht hae ridden in her coach-an-four 
this day along wi me/ 

a. 12 Then he took oot a whistle, an he 's blawn 

baith loud and shrill, 

There was four-an-twenty foresters cam at 
their master's will 

13 Then he took oot a wee pen-knife, an let 

his duddies fa, 

And he was the brawest gentleman that 
was amang them a'. 

2 He wadna lie in barn, nor he wadna lie in The English broadside, Pepys Ballads, III, 73, No 


Bat he wad lie at the ha-door or the back 
o the kitchen-fire. 

B. d. From the recitation of the same, on the same 
occasion ; learned in youth at Airds of Kells, 
from the singing of Thomas Duffy, joiner, 



Who got the love of a pretty maid 
And on her cittern sweetly plaid ; 
At last she slung her milk-pail over the wall, 
And bid the Del take milk-pail, maidenhead and all. 
Tune is, There was a jovial begger.* 


Wi his long staff, and ragged coat, and 

breeches to his knee, 
And he was the bauldest beggNnan that 216< There 
eer my eyes did see. way of life. 

VOL. v. 15 

Printed for F, Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. 

^ Ebsworth, Bagford Ballad*, I, 
^venture ; the subject ia the beggar's 



1 There was a jovial begger-man, 

a begging he was bound, 
And he did seek his living 
in country and in town. 
With a long staff and a patcht coat, 

he prancd along the pad. 
And by report of many a one 
he was a proper lad. 
His -cheeks were like the crimson rose, 

his forehead smooth and high, 
And he was the bravest begger-man I saw with eye. 

2 He came unto a farmer's gate 

and for an alms did crave ; 
The maid did like the begger-man 

and good relief she gave. 
She took him by the lilly hand 

and set him to the fire, 
Which was as well as tongue could tell 

Or heart of man desire. 

8 A curious mess of firmaty 
for him she did provide, 
With a lovely cup of nut-brown 
and sugar sops beside. 

4 ' Sweet-heart, give me some lodging, 

that I all night may stay, 
Or else give me my answer, 

that I may go away/ 
The maid went to the hay-mow 

and fetcht a bottle of hay, 
And laid it behind the parlor-door, 

On which the begger-man lay. 

5 < Resolve me/ said the maiden, 

* if that you will or can, 
For I do venly believe 

thou art a gentleman.' 
' In truth then/ said the begger, 

' my parents they are poor, 
And I do seek my living 

each^day from door to door/ 

' 'T is pity/ said this maiden fair, 

* that such a lively lad 
Should be a begger's only heir, 

a fortune poor and bad. 
I wish that my condition 

were of the same degree, 
Then hand in hand I 'de quickly wend 

throughout the world with tbee.' 

7 When he perceivd the maiden's mind, 

and that her heart was his, 
He did embrace her in his arms 
And sweetly did her kiss. 

8 In lovely sport and merriment 

the night away they spent 
In Venus game, for their delight 
and both their hearts content : 

9 Betimes in the morning then, 

as soon as it was day, 
He left the damosel fast asleep 

and nimbly budgd away. 
When he from her an hour was gone 

the damosel she did wake, 
And seeing the begger-man not there 

her heart began to ake. 

10 Then did she sigh and wring her hands, 

the tears did trickling pour, 
For loosing her virginity 

and virgins maiden flower. 
When twenty weeks were come and gone 

her heart was something sad, 
Because she found herself with barn, 

and does not know the dad. 

11 ' There is, I see, no remedy 

for what is past and gone, 
And many a one that laughs at me 

may do as I have done.' 
Then did she take her milk-pail, 

and flung it over the wall : 
* O the Devil go with my milk-pail, 

my maidenhead and all 1 ' 

12 You maidens fair, where ere you are, 

Keep up your store and goods, 
For when that some have got their wills 

They '1 leave you in the suds. 
Let no man tempt you nor entice, 

be not too fond and coy, 
But soon agree to loyalty, 

Tour freedom to enjoy. 

4 4 . go that way. 




Printed in the first volume of Ramsay's Tea- 
Table Miscellany, 1724, from which it was repeated 
in Thomson's Orpheus Caledonius, 1725, fol. 43, 
and Old Ballads, III, 259, the same year; in the 
Dublin reprint of the Miscellany, 1729, I, 96, 
the " fifth edition," London, 1730, and the ninth 
edition, London, 1733, I. 84. The first edition, 
1724, being of extreme rarity, if anywhere now to 
be found, the piece is given here from Old Ballads, 
which agrees with Orpheus Caledonius except as to 
the spelling of a single word. 

The Gaberlunyie-Man is one of the pieces which 
were subjected to revision in the Miscellany ; " such 
old verses as have been done time out of mind, 
and only wanted to be cleared from the dross of 
blundering transcribers and printers, such as ' The 
Gaberlunzie-man,' * Muirland Willy/ " etc. (Ram- 
say's preface.) 

In recited copies, as the " Old Lady's Collection," 
No 13 (Skene MS., p. 65), and MotherweU's MS., 
p. 31, the girl is made to come back again to see 
her mother (or the gaberlunyie-man brings her) ( wi a 
bairn in her arms and ane in her wame ; ' but for 
all that a fine lady, ' wi men- and maid-servants at 
her command.' 

Translated by Herder, II, 264 ; Bodmer, I, 68 ; 
Fiedler, p. 23 ; Loeve-Veimars, p. 356. 

1 The pauky auld carle came oer the lee, 
Wi many good eens and days to me, 
Saying, Goodwife, for your courtesie, 

Will ye lodge a silly poor man ? 
The night was cauld, the carle was wat, 
And down ayont the ingle he sat ; 
My daughter's shoulders he gan to clap, 

And cadgily ranted and sang. 

2 ' O wow ! ' quo he, * were I as free 
As first when I saw this country, 
How blyth and merry wad I be ! 

And I wad never think lang ' 
He grew canty, and she grew fain, 
But little did her auld minny ken 
What thir slee twa togither were sayn, 

When wooing they were safe] thrang. 

8 ( And O ! ' quo he, ( ann ye were as black, 
As eer the crown of your dady's hat, 
'T is I wad lay thee by my back, 
And awa wi me thou shoud gang.' 

* And O I ' quoth she, * ann I were as white 
As eer the snaw lay on the dike, 
I 'd dead me braw, and lady-like, 
And awa with thee I 'd gang.' 

4 Between the twa was made a plot ; 
They raise a wee before the cock, 
And wyliely they shot the lock, 

And fast to the bent are they gane. 
Up the morn the auld wife raise, 
And at her leasure pat on her claiths ; 
Syne to the servants bed she gaes, 

To speer for the silly poor man. 

5 She gaed to the bed where the beggar lay, 
The strae was cauld, he was away ; 

She clapt her bands, cry'd, Waladay 1 
For some of our gear will be gane. 

Some ran to coffers, and some to kists, 

But nought was stown that coud be mist ; 

She danc'd her lane, cry'd, Praise be blest, 
I have lodg'd a leal poor man ! 

6 * Since nathing 's awa, as we can learn, 
The kirn 's to kirn and milk to earn ; 

Gae butt the house, lass, and waken my bairn, 
And bid her come quickly ben.' 

The servant gade where the daughter lay, 

The sheets was cauld, she was away ; 

And fast to her good wife can say, 
She 's aff with the gaberlunyie-man. 

7 ' O fy, gar ride, and fy, gar rin, 

And hast ye find these traitors again ; 
For she 's be burnt, and he 's be slain, 

The weanfu gaberlunyie-man.' 
Some rade upo horse, some ran a-fit, 
The wife was wood and out o 'er wit ; 
She coud na gang, nor yet coud she sit, 

But ay she cursd and she band. 

8 Mean time far hind outoer the lee, 

Fou snug in a glen, where nane coud see, 
The twa, with kindly sport and glee, 

Cut frae a new cheese a whang. 
The pnving was good, it pleasd them baith, 
To loe her for ay he gae her his aith ; 
Quo she, To leave thee, I will be laith, 

My winsome gaberlunyie-man. 

9 O kend my minny I were wi you, 
Illfardly wad she crook her mou ; 
Sic a poor man she 'd never trow, 

After the gaberlunyie-man ' 
* My dear,' quo he, * ye 'r yet oer young, 
And ha na learnd the beggar's tongue, 
To follow me frae town to town, 

And carry the gaberlunyie on. 



10 ' Wi kank and keel, 111 win your bread, 
And spindles and whorles for them wha need, 
Whilk is a gentil trade indeed, 
To cany the gaberlnnyie, O. 
I 'II bow my leg, and crook my knee, 

And draw a black clout oer my eye ; 
A criple or blind they will ca me, 
While we shall be merry and sing.' 

3*. my dady's, Dublin, 1729, London, 1780, 1733. 



A. The Shipherd Boy,' " Old Lady's Collection," D. The Gaberlunzie Laddie, or, The Beggar's Bride,' 
No 85. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 100. 

B. 'The Beggar's Daw tie,' Murison MS., p. 85. 

C. ' The Beggar-Laddie,' Motherwell's MS., p. 249. 

E. ' The Shepherd's Bonny Lassy,' Kinloch M8S, V, 
249,11, 17. 

Tms is a sort of 4 Gaberlunyie-Man ' with 
a romantic conclusion, resembling that of 
( Lizie Lindsay.' A pretended beggar, who 
is for the time acting as shepherd's swain, 
induces a young lady, or young woman of 
good standing, to follow him as his beggar- 
lassie. They come to a hall (his father's, A, 
D, B, brother's, 0), he knocks loudly, four 
and twenty gentlemen welcome him in, and 

as many ladies the lassie, and she is thence- 
forth a knight's or squire's lady. 

There is corruption in all the copies,* and 
the rhyme is frequently lost. A 2 (B 3, O 8, 
D 7, B 5) is taken almost bodily from ' The 
Gaberlunyie-Man,' 10. D is not the better 
for being a mixture of three copies. D 4 an- 
ticipates the conclusion, and it is inconceivable 
that any meddler should not have seen this. 
D 14 is caught from ( The Jolly Beggar. 9 

The " Old Lady's Collection/' No 35 ; north of Scotland. 

1 SHIPERD-BOY, what is yer trade ? 
Or what way do ye wine yer bread ? 
Or what way do ye wine yer bread, 

Fan the kipeng nout gies over ? 

2 ' Spindels an forls it is my trade, 
An bits o sticks to them who need, 
Whilk is a gentell trade indeed ; 

Bony lassie, cane ye lea me ? ' 

B 4 8 , As Jessie loved the cup* o gold, 
C 5 l , A* Judas loved a piece of gold, 
D 3 s , Aa Jesse lovd the fields of gold ; 

3 * I lea you as I snpos 
Rachell loved Jacob of old, 

As Jason loied his flice of gould, 
Sae dearly do I lea ye. 

4 * Ye cast off yer clooty coat, 

An ye pitt one my scarlett cloke, 
An I will follou you just att the back, 
Becass ye are a bonny laddie/ 

5 He cust off his cloutty coat, 
An he patt on her scarlet cloke, 

the original reading being as in 

A 3, As Jaaon loied his flice of gould. 



An she folloued him just att the back, 
Becaus he was a bonny laddie. 

6 They gaed on, an forder on, 

Till they came to yon borrous-toun ; 
She bought a loaf an they both satt doun, 
Bat she ate no we her laddie. 

7 They gaed on, an forder one, 

Till they came to the nest borrous-toun ; 
I wat the lassie louked doun, 
For the following of her laddie. 

8 ' O if I wer on the head of yon hill, 
Ther I wad greet my fill, 

For the follouing of my laddie/ 

9 ' O had yer toung, my dearest dear, 

I ill ha ye back as I brought ye hear, 
For I canna bear yer morning.' 

10 * O had yer toung, my dearest dear, 

I will gae throu the warld baith far an near, 
Becaus ye 'r a bonny ladie.' 

11 They gad on, an forder on, 

Till they came to his father's haa, 
An he knoked ther fue loudly. 

12 ( O had yer hand, my dear[est] dear, 
An dou not knoke sae loudly, 

For fear they sud be angry.' 

13 Four-an-tuenty gentelmen 
They conved the beager ben, 
An as mony gay lades 

Conved the beager's lassie. 

14 His brother lead her throu the haa : 
' I wis, brother, we had beagged a*, 

For sick a bonny lassie.' 

15 That same night she was bedded, 

An the nist morning she was wedded ; 
She came to gried by grait misguiding, 
By the follouing of her laddie. 

Murison MS., p 85 ; from Aberdeenshire. 
1 'T WAS on a day in the month o June 

When Phoebus shines sae clearly. 

She says, My dear, what is your trade 
When tbiggin ye give over ? 

3 Spinls and f orls is my trade, 
Wi bits o sticks I win my bread, 
An O it is a winnin trade ; 

Bonnie lassie, can ye loo me ? ' 
An O it is, etc. 

4*01 can love ye manyf old, 
As Jacob loved Rachel of old, 
And as Jessie loved the cups o gold ; 
My dear, can ye believe me ? ' 
As Jessie, etc. 

5 * It *s ye '11 tak aff the robes o red, 
An ye '11 pit on the beggin-weed, 

An ye '11 gang wi me an ye '11 beg your bread, 
An ye '11 be the beggar's daw tie.' 

6 When they cam to yon borough-toon, 
They bocht a loaf an they baith sat doon, 
They bocht a loaf an they baith sat doon, 

An the lassie ate wi her laddie. 

7 When they cam to yon grassy hill, 
Where spotted flocks do feed their fill, 
* I '11 sit me doon an I '11 greet a while, 

For the followin o my laddie.' 

8 * It 's ye '11 tak aff yer beggin-weed, 
An ye '11 pit on the goons o red, 

An ye 11 gang ye back the road ye cam, 
For I canna bide yer greetin.' 

9 * Betide me weel, betide me woe, 
It 's wi the beggar an I '11 go, 

An I 'H follow him through frost an snow, 
An I '11 be the beggar's dawtie.' 



10 When they cam to yonder ha, 
He knockit loud an sair did ca ; 

She says, My dear, we '11 be f oun in fa 
For knock in here sae loudly. 

11 Four-an-twenty gentlemen 

Cam a' to welcome the beggar in, 
An as monie fair ladies gay 
To welcome 's bonnie lassie. 

12 When at he gied through the ha, 
They a' did laugh, they were like to fa, 
Sayin, Brither, I wish we had beggit a', 

For sic a bonnie lassie. 

13 * The streen ye was the beggar's bride, 
An noo this nicht ye '11 lie by my side, 
Come weel, come woe, whateer betide, 

An ye '11 be aye my dawtie.' 


Motherwell's MS , p 249 , from the recitation of Miss 
Ann WiJ&on, of the Tontine Inn, Paisley, who learned it 
from the cook in her father's house. 

1 DOWN in yonder garden gay, 
Where many a ladie does repair, 
Where many a ladie does repair, 

Puing of flowers sae bonnie. 

2 * do you see yon shepherd's son, 
Feeding his flocks in yonder loan, 
Feeding his flocks in yonder loan ? 

Vow but he feeds them bonnie ! ' 

3 * laddie, laddie, what is your trade ? 

Or by what means do you win your bread ? 
Or by what means do you win your bread ? 
laddie, tell unto me.' 

4 * By making spindles is my trade, 
Or whorles in the time o need, 

And by which ways I do win my bread : 
lady, do you love me ? ' 

5 ' As Judas loved a piece of gold, 
As Jacob loved Rachel of old, 
As Jacob loved Rachel of old, 

laddie, I do love thee.' 

6 ' You must put off your robes of silk, 
You must put on my cloutit claes, 
And follow me hard at my back, 

And ye '11 be my beggar-lassie.' 

7 She 's put aff her robes of silk, 
And she 's put on his cloutit claes, 

And she *s followed him hard at his back, 
And she 's been his beggar-lassie. 

8 O when they cam to [the] borrowstoun, 
Vow but the lassie lookit doun ! 

Vow but the lassie lookit doun ! 
Following her beggar-laddie. 

9 when they cam to Stirling toun, 

He coft a loaf and they baith sat doun, 
He coft a loaf and they baith sat doun, 
And she 's eaten wi her beggar-laddie. 

10 ' do you see yon hie, hie hill, 

Where the corn grows baith rank and tall ? 
If I was there, I would greet my fill, 
Where naebody wuld see me.' 

11 When they came to his brother's hall, 
Vow but he chappit loud and schill ! 

4 Don't chap sae loud,' the lassie said, 
' For we may be fund faut wi.' 

12 Four-and-twenty gentlemen, 
And twice as many gay ladies, 
And twice as many gay ladies, 

Came to welcome in the lassie. 

13 His brother led her thro the hall. 
With laughter he was like to fall ; 
He said, I think we should beg it all, 

For she is a bonnie lassie. 

14 c You must put aff your cloutit claes, 
You must put on your robes of silk, 
You must put on your robes of silk, 

For ye are a young knicht's ladye.' 



Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 100, from three 
copies, two in Banffshire, and one in Aberdeenshire 

1 ' T WAS in the pleasant month of June, 
When woods and valleys a' grow green, 
And valiant ladies walk alane, 

"While Phoebus shines soe clearly. 
And valiant ladies, etc. 

2 Out-ower yon den I spied a swain, 
Wi a shepherd's club into his han ; 

He was driving ewes out-ower yon knowes, 
And said, Lassie, I could love you. 
He was driving ewes, etc 

3 * Oh, I could love you manifold, 
As Jacob lovd Rachel of old, 
As Jesse lovd the fields of gold, 

So dearly could I love you. 

4 ' In ha's and chambers ye 'se be laid, 
In silks and cambrics ye 'se be clade, 
An wi the finest ye 'se be fed, 

My dear, gin ye would believe me.' 

5 ' Your ha's and chambers ye'll soon sweep 


Wi your flattering tongue now let me alane ; 
You are designd to do me wrang, 
Awa, young man, and leave me. 

6 ' But tell me now what is your trade, 
When you 've given over sheep and club ? ' 

7 ' By making besoms I win my bread, 
And spindles and whorles in time o need ; 
Is n't that a gentle trade indeed v 
Bonnie lassie, can you loe me p 

8 * Will ye cast aff your mantle black 
And put on you a clouty cloak, 
And follow me close at the back, 

The gaberlunyie-laddie ? ' 

9 Then she coost aff her mantle black, 
And she put on a clouty cloak, 

And she followd him close at the back, 
Her gaberlunyie-laddie. 

10 As they gaed through yon borough-town, 
For shame the lassie lookit down ; 

But they bought a loaf and they both sat down, 
And the lassie ate wi her laddie. 

11 When they came to his father's gate, 
Sae loudly as he rappd thereat ; 

* My dear,' said she, ' ye '11 be found in faut 

For rapping there sae loudly.' 

12 Then four-and-twenty gentlemen 
Convoyd the gentle beggar ben, 
And aye as mony gay ladies 

Convoyd the bonny lassie. 

13 When they were come into the ha, 
Wi laughter a' were like to fa : 

* I wish, dear brother, we had begged a', 

For sic a bonnie lassie ' 

14 Then as he stood amang them a', 
He let his meal-pocks a' down fa, 
And in red gowd he shone oer them a', 

And she was a young knight's lady. 

15 Yestreen she was the begger's bride, 
As his wife she now stood by his side, 
And for a' the lassie 's ill misguide, 

She 's now the young knight's lady. 


Kinloch MSS, V, 249 As recited by John Laurie, Ab- 

1 'T WAS in the merry month of June, 

When woods and gardens were all in bloom, 
When woods and gardens were all in bloom, 
And Phoebus shining clearly. 

2 Did you not see your shepherd-swain, 
Feeding his flocks upon the plain. 
Feeding his flocks all one by one, 
And keeping them together ? 

3 Did you not see yon bonny green, 
Wliere dukes and lords and my 

love hath 



Where dukes and lords and my love hath 

And Phoebus shining clearly ? 

4 ' O shepherd, shepherd, tell me indeed 
Which is the way you dou win your bread, 
Which is the way you dou win your bread, 

When feeding you give over ? ' 

5 * By making spindles I win my bread, 
By turning whorles in time of need, 
By turning whorles in time of need, 

Say, lassy, can you love me ? ' 

6 * I could love you manifold, 
As Jacob loved Rachel of old, 
As Jacob loved Rachel of old, 

So dearly could I love you/ 

7 ' You must cast off these robes of silk, 
And put about my shepherd's cloak, 
And you must walk down at my back, 

Like a shepherd's bonny lassie/ 

8 She has cast off her robes of silk, 
And put about his shepherd's cloak, 
And she has walkd down at his back, 

Like a shepherd's bonny lassie. 

9 O they walked up, and they walked down, 
Till this fair maiden she 's wearyed grown ; 
Says she, My dear, we '11 go to some town, 

And there tak up our lodgings. 

10 O whan they cam to his father's gate, 
Sae loudly, loudly as he did rap ; 

Says she, My dear, we '11 be found in fault. 
For rapping here sae boldly. 

11 But whan they cam to his father's hall, 
O loud, loud laughter they laughed all, 
Saying, Brother, I wish we had herded all, 

Ye 've got sic an a bonny lassie. 

12 Now this young couple they were wed, 
And all the way the flowers were spread, 
For in disguise they were married ; 

She 's now the young squire's lady. 

A. 2 2 . who wad. Cf. 'GaberlunyicvMan,' 10'. C, 
D, E, time o need. 

4 l . cloutyclok. Cf. 5 1 . 

4, 5. In the other copies, the lady casts off her 
better clothes, and puts on the beggin-weed, 
his cloutit claes, a clouty cloak, his shep- 
herd's cloak, and this disposition is no doubt 
the right one. 

6 8 . She bought. He, C, They, B, D, either 

of which is preferable. 
15 2 . wouded. 

C. 8 1 , 9 1 , 10 1 . Oh. 
8 1 . Borrowstoun. 

D. 6, 7 are printed together. 





A. 4 The Reach i the Creel,' Alexander Whitelaw, 
The Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 35, 1845; Dixon, 
Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs, p. 112, Percy 
Society, vol. xvii, 1846. 

B. 'The Creel, or, Bonnie May.' Communicated by 
Mr David Louden, Morham, Haddington, 1873. 

C. 'The Cunning Clerk,* Buchan's Ballads of the 

North of Scotland, I, 278, 1828. 

D. The Covering Blue/ Kinloch MSS, I, 276 ; Kin- 
loch's Ballad Book, p. 61, 1827. 

A FEW copies of A were printed about 1845 
by a Northumbrian gentleman for private dis- 
tribution. One of these came into Whitelaw's 
hands, another into Dixon's. Dixon made 
some changes in reprinting. Bell, Ancient 
Poems, etc., p. 75, 1857, and Bruce and 
Stokoe, Northumbrian Minstrelsy, p. 82, 
1882, repeat Dixon. This last remarks that 
" this old and very humorous ballad has long 
been a favorite on both sides of the Border." 
James Telfer, writing to Sir W. Scott, 
May 12, 1824 [Letters, XIII, No 73], says : 
" I have an humorous ballad sung by a few of 
the old people on this side of the Border. It 
is entitled The Keach in the Creel. It begins 
thus : 

A bonny may went up the street 

Some whitewish (sic) for to buy, 
And a bonny clerk 'a faen in love with her, 
And he 's followed her by and by, by, 
And he 's followed her by and by." 

Buchan notes, I, 31 9, that Motherwell had 
sent him a ballad " somewhat similar in inci- 
dent," taken down from the recitation of an 
old woman in or near Paisley. 

This was perhaps a copy of which the first 
stanza is entered in Motherwell's Note-Book, 
p. 55: 

When I gade doun to Colliestoun, 
Some white-fish for to buy, buy, 

The cannie clarkie follows me, 

And he follows me spedily, -ly. 
VOL. v. 10 

Or the ballad called * Ricadoo ' in the Ap- 
pendix to Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. xxiii, 
No 29, where this first stanza is given : 

The farmer's daughter gade to the market, 

Some white-fish for to buy ; 
The young squire followed after her, 
As fast as he could hie. Ricadoo, 
Tunaway, ricadoo a doo a day, 
Raddle ricadoo, 

Though occurring only in a late Scottish 
ballad, the story is somewhat old. In Gastd, 
Chansons normandes du XV e sidcle, MS. de 
Vire, No 19, p. 15, a gentleman of Orleans 
causes his servants to let him down a chim- 
ney in a basket, and conceals himself under a 
lady's bed. She, made aware of his presence, 
sends her husband off to the barn, where, she 
says, he will find the cure*, who has made love 
to her. On returning, the husband gets his 
feet into the basket, and the servants without 
draw the basket up. The man cries out to 
his wife that the devil is making away with 

Again, in a fabliau considerably older: 
' Du chevalier a la corbeille,' MS. of the end 
of the fourteenth century, F. Michel, Gautier 
d' Aupais, Le chevalier a la Corbeille, Fabliaux 
du XIII 6 sidcle, p. 35 ; Montaiglon et Ray- 
naud, Recueil ge'ne'ral des Fabliaux, etc., II, 
183. A gentleman makes appointment to 
visit a lady one night when her husband is 



away. An old woman, the husband's mo- 
ther, sleeps in a bed beside the lady's, and 
keeps strict watch over her. The gentleman's 
squires hoist him in a basket over the wall of 
the house, so that he obtains entrance into 
the hall, whence he passes into the lady's 
chamber. The old woman observes a dis- 
turbance, and gets up, pretending that she is 
going to the kitchen. In the hall she goes 
astray and falls into the basket. The squires, 
noticing a movement of the cords, pull at the 
basket. The old woman is 4 towed ' up and 
down, and knocked about, much as in the bal- 
lad. She thinks that devils have carried her 

off. Finally the squires let the cords go, and 
the basket comes fiat to the ground. 

The story is also told in Henri Estienne's 
Apologie pour H6rodote, 1566 ; here, of a girl 
and her lover, and it is the girl's father that 
gets his feet into the basket. Ed. Ristelhuber, 
1879, 1, 282 f. 

No one looks for decorum in pieces of this 
description, but a passage in this ballad, 
which need not be particularized, is brutal 
and shameless almost beyond example. 

C is translated by Gerhard, p. 192. 

WtiteUw's Book of Scottish Ballade, p. 35 ; " taken 
down from the recitation of a gentleman in Liddesdale." 

1 A FAIB young may went up the street, 

Some white-fish for to buy, 
And a bonnie clerk 'a f aen in love wi her, 
And he 's followed her by and by, by, 
And he 's followed her by and by. 

2 * where live ye, my bonnie lass, 

I pray thea tell to me ; 
For gin the nicht were ever cute mirk 
I wad come and visit thee.' 

3 ' O my father he aye locks the door, 

My mither keeps the key ; 
And gin ye were ever sic a wily wight 
Ye canna win in to me/ 

4 Bat the clerk he had ae true brother, 

And a wily wight was he ; 

And he has made a lang ladder, 

Was thirty steps and three. 

5 He has made a cleek but and a creel, 

A creel but and a pin ; 
And he 's away to the chimley-top, 
And he 's letten the bonnie clerk in. 

6 The auld wife, being not asleep, 

Heard something that was said ; 

< I '11 lay my life/ quo the silly add wife, 
' There 's a man i our dochter's bed/ 

7 The auld man he gat owre the bed, 

To see if the thing was true ; 
But she 's ta'en the bonny clerk in her arms, 
And coverd him owre wi blue. 

8 * O where are ye gaun now, father ? ' she says, 

' And where are ye gaun sae late ? 
Te 've disturbd me in my evening prayers, 
And but they were sweet ! ' 

9 < ill betide ye, silly auld wife, 

And an ill death may ye die ! 
She has the muckle bulk in her arms, 
And she f s prayin for you and me.' 

10 The auld wife being not asleep, 

Then something mair was said ; 
' I '11 lay my life,' quo the silly auld wife, 
' There 's a man i our dochter's bed/ 

11 The auld wife she got owre the bed, 

To see if the thing was true ; 
But what the wrack took the auld wife's fit ? 
For into the creel she flew. 

12 The man that was at the chimley-top, 

Finding the creel was fu, 
He wrappit the rape round his left shouther, 
And fast to him he drew. 



13 ' help ! help ! O hinny, now, help ! 

help, hinny, now ! 

For him that ye aye wished me to 
He 'a carryin me off just now/ 

14 * if the foul thief 's gotten ye, 

1 wish he may keep his haud ; 
For a* the lee lang winter nicht 

Ye '11 never lie in your bed.' 

15 He 's towed her up, he 's towed her down, 

He 's towed her through an through ; 

< Gude assist ! ' quo the silly auld wife, 
' For I 'm just departin now/ 

16 He 's towed her up, he f s towed her down, 

He 's gien her a richt down-fa, 
Till every rib i the auld wife's side 
Playd nick-nack on the wa. 

17 the blue, the bonnie, bonnie blue, 

And I wish the blue may do weel ! 
And every auld wife that 's sae jealous o her 

May she get a good keach i the creel I 


Communicated February, 1 873, bj Mr David Louden, of 
Morham, Haddington, N. B., as derived from Andrew 
Hastie, Rentonhall. 

1 As bonnie may went up the street, 

Some sweetmeats for to buy, 
There was a young clerk followed after her, 
And followed her by and by, by, 
And followed her by and by. 

2 * It 's bonnie may, where do you stay ? 

Or where is 't that you be ? 
Oh if the night be neer so dark, 
Awat I '11 come and visit thee.' 

3 ' My father locks the door at een, 

My mother keeps the key ; 
Gin ye were neer sic a rovin blade, 
Ye canna win in to me/ 

4 The young clerk has a young brither, 

And a wily wag was he ; 
He 's made to him a long ladder, 
Wi thirty steps and three. 

5 And he 's put it to the chimney-top, 

And the creel he 's put on a pin, 

And he 's put it to the chimney-top, 

And he 's let the young clerk in. 

6 The auld wife she was standing by, 

She heard a word was said ; 
* I could lay my life,' said the silly auld wife, 
1 There 's a man in oor dochter's bed/ 

7 The auld man he cam doun the stairs 

To see if it were true ; 
The young clerk was lying in bonnie may's 

And she 's covered him oer wi blue. 

8 * Where are you going, dear father ? ' she says, 

* Where are you going so late ? 
You stopped me of my evening prayers, 
And oh, but they were sweet I ' 

9 ' The deil tak you, ye silly auld wife, 

And an ill death may ye dee ! 
For your dochter was lyin wi the book in her 

And she 's prayin for you and me/ 

10 The auld wife still standin no far by, 

Still hearin a word, she said, 
' Ye may say as ye like, ye silly auld man, 
There 's a man in oor dochter's bed/ 

11 I dinna ken what 's taen the auld .wife's fit, 

But into the creel she flew ; 
The young clerk['s brither] being at the chim- 
He found the creel was fu. 

12 He 's thrown the rope out-owre bis shouther, 

And to him he did draw ; 
He 's drawn her up, he 's drawn her doun, 
He 's drawn her through and through, 

13 Till the auld wife she began to cry, 

I 'm just departin noo 1 



Bat aye be drew her up and doun, 
And drew her through and through. 

14 He 's drawn her up, he 's let her doun, 

He 's gien her evendoun fall, 
Till every rib on the auld wife's side 
Flayed nick-nack on the wall. 

15 It 's the blue, the bonnie, bonnie blue, 
I wish the blue may do weel I * 

For every auld wife that is jealous o her dochter 
Hay be rockit to the d 1 in a creel I 

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, 1, 278. 

1 As I gaed down to Coilistown, 

Some white-fish for to buy, buy, 
The cunning clerk he followed me, 
And he followed me speedily, ly, 
And he followed me speedily. 

2 Says, Faur ye gaun, my dearest dear ? 

faur ye gaun, my dow ? 

There 's naebody comes to my bedside, 
And naebody wins to you. 

3 * Your brother is a gallant square-wright, 

A gallant square-wright is he ; 
Ye '11 gar him make a lang ladder, 
Wi thirty steps and three. 

4 * And gar him big a deep, deep creel, 

A deep creel and a string, 
And ye '11 come up to my bedside, 
And come bonnily linken in.' 

5 The auld gudeman and auld gndewife, 

To bed they went, to sleep ; 
But wae mat worth the auld gudewif e I 
A wink she coudna get. 

6 ' I dreamd a dreary dream this night, 

1 wish it binna true, 

That the rottens had come thro the wa, 
And cutted the coverin blue. 1 

7 Then up it raise the add gudeman, 

To see gin it was true ; 
And he 'g gane to his daughter dear, 
Says, What are ye doing, my dow ? 

8 ' What are ye doing, my daughter dear ? 

What are ye doing, my dow ? ' 
' The prayer book 's in my hand, father, 
Praying for my auld minnie and you/ 

9 The auld gudeman and auld gudewife, 

To bed they went, to sleep ; 
But wae mat worth the auld gudewife ! 
But aye she wakend yet 

10 * I dreamd a dreary dream this night, 

I wish it binna true, 

That the cunning clerk and your ae daughter 
Were aneath the coverin blue.' 

11 ' rise yoursell, gudewife/ he says, 

' The diel may had you fast ! 
Atween you and your ae daughter 
I canno get ae night's rest.' 

12 Up then raise the auld gudewife, 

To see gin it was true, 
And she fell arselins in the creel, 
And up the string they drew. 

13 ' Win up, win up, gudeman/ she says, 

* Win up and help me now ! 
For he that ye gae me to last night, 
I think he 's catchd me now. 1 

14 ' Gin Auld Nick he has catchd you now, 

I wish he may had you fast ; 
As for you and your ae daughter, 
I never get kindly rest' 

15 They howded her, and they showded her, 

Till the anld wife gat a fa, 
And three ribs o the auld wife's side 
Gaed knip-knap ower in twa. 



Kinloch MSB, I, 876; from Alexander Kixmear, of 

1 l MY father he locks the doors at nicht, 

My mither the keys carries ben, ben ; 
There 's naebody dare gae out/ she says, 
' And as few dare come in, in, 
And as few dare come in/ 

2 ' I will mak alang ladder, 

Wi fifty steps and three, 
I will mak a lang ladder, 

And lichtly come doun tothee.' 

3 He has made a lang ladder, 

Wi fifty steps and three, 
He has made a lang ladder, 
And lichtly come doun the lum. 

4 They had na kissd nor lang clappit, 

As lovers do whan they meet, 
Till the auld wife says to the auld man, 
I hear somebody speak. 

5 * I dreamed a dreem sin late yestreen, 

And I 'm feard my dream be true ; 
I dreamd that the rottens cam thro the wa, 
And cuttit the covering blue. 

6 < Ye '11 rise, ye '11 rise, my auld gudeman, 

And see gin this be true ; * 
' If ye 're wanting rising, rise yoursel, 
For I wish the auld chiel had you/ 

7 < I dreamed a dream sin late yestreen, 

And I 'm feard my dream be true ; 
I dreamd that the clerk and our ae dother 
War rowed in the covering blue. 

8 ' Ye '11 rise, ye '11 rise, my auld gudeman, 

And see gin this be true : ' 
( If ye 're wanting rising, rise yoursel, 
For I wish the auld chiel had you/ 

9 But up she raise, and but she gaes, 

And she fell into the gin ; 
He gied the tow a clever tit, 

That brought her out at the lum. 

10 ' Ye '11 rise, ye '11 rise, my auld gudeman, 

Ye '11 rise and come to me now, 
For him that ye 've gien me sae lang till, 
I fear he has gotten me now/ 

11 * The grip that he 's gotten, I wish he may haud, 

And never let it gae, 
For atween you and your ae dother 
I rest neither nicht nor day.' 

A. I 1 . May (not may). 

Diason says : In the present impression some 
trifling typographical mistakes are corrected, 
and the phraseology has been rendered uni- 
form throughout 

In 6 a , he prints, Tho late, late was the hour; 

6 4 , dochter's bower ; 10 4 , by our ; 13 s , hinny, 

do ; 13 B , wished me at. 
I 1 , 2 1 , 7. May (not may). I 4 , by and bye, 
15 1 . She cries aye, It 's oh. 





Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 165. 

JOOK THE LEG and a merchant (packman, 
pedlar) put up at the same tavern. Jock 
makes free to order a good supper at the mer- 
chant's expense; the packman gives notice 
that he will not pay a penny beyond his own 
shot. They go to bed in rooms separated by 
a locked door, but before the merchant is 
well asleep Jock appears at his feet and rouses 
him ; it is more than time that they were on 
their road. The merchant will not stir a foot 
till daylight ; he cannot go by Barnisdale or 
Coventry for fear that Jock the Leg should 
take his pack. His self-imposed comrade 
promises to see him safely through these 
places, but when they come to dangerous 
ground avows himself as Jock the Leg, and 
demands the pack. The merchant puts his 
pack under a tree, and says he will fight for 
it till daylight ; they fight ; the robber finds 
a more than equal match, cries Hold ! and 
begs the boon of a blast on his horn, to which 
the merchant contemptuously accedes. Four- 
and-twenty bowmen come to Jock's help. The 
merchant offers to give up his pack if the six 
best of these, and Jock, the seventh, can drive 
him one foot from it. The seven make the 
attempt and fail. The merchant, holding his 
pack in one hand, slays five of the six with 
his broadsword, and knocks over the other. 

Jock declares him to be the boldest swords, 
man he has ever fought with; if he were 
equally good with the bow, he should have 
service with Jock's master in the greenwood. 
The merchant would not join a robber-band. 
Jock proposes a barter of deerskins for fine 
linen. The merchant wants no stolen deer- 
skins. * Take your pack,' says Jock, 4 and 
wherever we meet we shall be good comrades.' 
4 1 11 take my pack,' says the uncompromising 
merchant, *and wherever we meet I'll call 
thee a rank thief.' 

This piece, but for names (and Jock the 
Leg is only a thin shrouding for Little John), 
might have gone with the Robin Hood bal- 
lads. It was composed, probably, in the last 
half of the eighteenth century, and for hawk- 
ers' purposes, but it is a better ballad, imita- 
tion as it is, than some of the seventeenth- 
century broadsides of the same class (which 
is indeed saying very little). The fight for 
the pack, 13, 14, 20, we have in 4 The Bold 
Pedlar and Robin Hood ' (also a late ballad), 
No 132, 6, 7, 10 ; the " asking " of a blast on 
the horn and the scornful reply, 16, 17, in 
' Robin Hood and the Shepherd,' No 185, 15, 
16, with verbal similarity in the first case. 
(17 is all but a repetition of No 128, B 26, 
and No 140, B 25.) 

1 As Jock the Leg and the merry merchant 

Came from yon borrow's town, 
They took their budgets on their backs, 
And fieldert they were boun. 

2 But they came to a tavern-house, 

Where chapmen used to be : 
' Provide, provide/ said Jock the Leg, 
* A good supper for me. 



3 l For the merry merchant shall pay it a*, 

Tho it were good merks three ; ' 

* But never a penny,' said the merry merchant, 

< But shot, as it fa's me. 

4 ' A bed, a bed,' said the merry merchant, 

* It 's time to go to rest ; ' 

* And that ye shall/ said the good good wife, 

* And your covrings o the best' 

5 Then Jock the Leg in one chamber was laid, 

The merchant in another, 
And lockfast door atween them twa, 
That the one might not see the other. 

6 But the merchant was not well lain down, 

Nor yet well fa'en asleep, 
Till up it starts him Jock the Leg, 
Just at the merchant's feet. 

7 * Win up, win up,' said Jock the Leg, 

'We might hae been miles three , ' 

* But never a foot/ said the merry merchant, 

4 Till day that I do see. 

8 ' For I cannot go by Barnisdale, 

Nor yet by Coventry ; 
For Jock the Leg, that common thief, 
Would take my pack from me/ 

9 ' I '11 hae you in by Barnisdale, 

And down by Coventry, 
And I '11 guard you frae Jock the Leg 
Till day that ye do see.' 

10 When they were in by Barnisdale, 

And in by Coventry, 

* Repeat, repeat,' said Jock the Leg, 

4 The words ye ance tauld me.' 

11 * I never said aught behind your back 

But what I '11 say to thee ; 
Are ye that robber, Jock the Leg, 
Will take my pack frae me ? ' 

12 < O by my sooth,' said Jock the Leg, 

* You '11 find that man 1 be , 
Surrender that pack that 's on your back, 
Or then be slain by me.' 

13 He 's ta'en his pack down frae his back, 

Set it below yon tree , 
Says, I will fight for my good pack 
Till day that I may see. 

14 Then they fought there in good greenwood 

Till they were bloody men ; 
The robber on his knees did fall, 
Said, Merchant, hold your hand. 

15 ' An asking, asking,' said Jock the Leg, 

1 An asking ye '11 grant me ; ' 
' Ask on, ask on,' said the merry merchant, 
' For men to asking are free.' 

16 i I 've dune little harm to you/ he said, 

* More than you 'd been my brother ; 
Give me a blast o my little wee horn, 
And I '11 give you another.' 

17 ' A blast o your little wee horn/ he said, 

1 Of this I take no doubt ; 
I hope you will take such a blast 
Ere both your eyes fly out.' 

18 He set his horn to his mouth, 

And he blew loud and shrill, 
And four-and-twenty bauld bowmen 
Came Jock the Leg until. 

19 * Ohon, alas ! ' said the merry merchant, 

4 Alas ! and woe is me ! 
Sae many, a party o common thiefs, 
But nane to party me ! 

20 ' Ye '11 wile out six o your best bowmen, 

Yourself the seventh to be, 
And, put me one foot frae my pack, 
My pack ye shall have free.' 

21 Ho wiled six o his best bowmen, 

Himself the seventh to be, 
But [him] frae his pack they couldna get, 
For all that they could dee. 

22 He 's taen his pack into one hand, 

His broads word in the other, 
And he slew five o the best bowmen, 
And the sixth he has dung over. 

23 Then all the rest they gae a shout, 

As they stood by the tree ; 
Some said they would this merchant head, 
Some said they 'd let him he. 

24 But Jock the Leg he then replied, 

To this I '11 not agree ; 
He is the boldest broadsword-man 
That ever I fought wi. 



25 < If ye could wield the bow, the how 

As ye can do the brand, 
I would hae you to good greenwood, 
To be my master's man.' 

26 < Tho I could wield the bow, the bow 

Afl I can do the brand, 
I would not gang to good greenwood, 
To join a robber-band.' 

27 ' give me some of your fine linen, 

To cleathe my men and me, 
And ye *se hae some of my dun deers' skins, 
Below yon greenwood-tree.' 

28 * Ye 'Be hae nane o my fine linen, 

To cleathe your men and thee, 
And I '11 hae nane o your stown deers' skins, 
Below yon greenwood-tree.' 

29 ' Ye '11 take your pack upon your back, 

And travel by land or sea ; 
In brough or land, wherever we meet, 
Good billies we shall be.' 

30 ' I '11 take my pack upon my back, 

And go by land or sea ; 
In brough or land, wherever we meet, 
A rank thief I '11 call thee.' 



a. The Crafty Farmer/ Logan, A Pedlar's Pack, 
p. 126, from a chap-book of 1796; The Crafty 
Miller,' Maid men t, Scotish Ballads and Songs, 
1859, p. 208, from a Glasgow stall-copy; a stall- 
copy, printed by M. Randall, Stirling. 

b. The Yorkshire Farmer,' Kidson, Traditional Tunes, 
p. 140, from The Manchester Songster, 1792. 

o. ' Saddle to Rags,' Dixon, Ancient Poems, etc. , p. 1 26, 
Percy Society, vol. xvii., taken down from the reci- 
tation of a Yorkshire yeoman in 1845. 

d. ' The Thief Outwitted,' Notes and Queries, Fourth 

Series, XI, 112, 1878, taken down by E. McC., 
Guernsey, "from the recitation of an old woman 
now in her eighty -second year, who learnt it in her 
childhood from her father, a laborer from the neigh- 
borhood of Yeovil." 

e. ' The Silly Old Man/ Baring-Gould and Sheppard, 
Songs and Ballads of the West, 3d ed., No 18, Part I, 
p. 88, as sung by the Rev. E. Luscombe, a Devon- 
shire man, about 1850 (Part IV, p. xviii). 

f. The Silly Old Man,' Miss M H. Mason's Nur- 
sery Rhymes and Country Songs, p. 48, as sung in 

AN old farmer who is on his way to pay 
his rent imparts the fact to a gentlemanlike 
highwayman who overtakes him. The high- 
wayman cautions him not to be too communi- 
cative, since there are many thieves on the 
roads. The old man has no fear ; his money 
is safe in his saddle-bags. At the right time 
and place the thief bids him stand and deliver. 
The farmer throws his saddle over a hedge ; 
the thief dismounts to fetch it, and gives his 
horse to the fanner to hold ; the farmer 
mounts the thief s horse and rides off. The 

thief hacks the saddle to pieces to get at the 
bags. Arrived at his landlord's, the farmer 
opens the thief's portmanteau, and finds in 
it six hundred pounds. The farmer's wife 
is made very happy by her husband's report 
of his performances ; the thief's money will 
help to enlarge her daughter's marriage por- 

This very ordinary ballad has enjoyed great 
popularity, and is given for that reason 
and as a specimen of its class. There is an 
entirely similar one, in which a Norfolk 



(Rygate, Cheshire) farmer's daughter going 
to market to sell corn is substituted for the 
farmer going to pay his rent : ( The Norfolk 
Maiden,' in The Longing Maid's Garland, of 
the last century, without place or date ;* ' The 
Maid of Rygate,' Logan's Pedlar's Pack, p. 
183 ; The Highwayman Outwitted,' Leigh's 
Ballads and Legends of Cheshire, p. 267. An- 
other variety is of a Yorkshire boy sent to a 
fair to sell a cow: 4 Yorkshire Bite,' etc., The 
Turnip-Sack Garland (like The Longing 
Maid's Garland, one of a collection of He- 
ber's);* 'The Yorkshire Bite,' "from a col- 
lection of ballads circa 1782," Logan's Ped- 
lar's Pack, p. 131 ; * The Crafty Ploughboy,' 

Ingledew's Ballads and Songs of Yorkshire, 
p. 209. 

For certain ballads in which a country girl, 
beset by an amorous gentleman, mounts his 
horse and makes off with his valise or the like, 
see II, 483, and the page preceding. 

4 The Politick Squire, or, The Highwaymen 
catch 'd in their own play,' is a ballad of a 
gentleman who, having been robbed by five 
highwaymen that then purpose to shoot him, 
tells them that he is the Pretender, and is 
taken by them as such to a justice. The 
squire makes explanations, four of the thieves 
are hanged, and the fifth, who had shown 
some mercy, is transported.! 

1 THE song that I 'm going to sing, 

I hope it will give you content, 
Concerning a silly old man, 

That was going to pay his rent 

2 As he was riding along, 

Along all on the highway, 
A gentleman-thief overtook him, 
And thus to him did say. 

3 ' Well overtaken ! ' said the thief, 

' Well overtaken ! ' said he ; 
And ' Well overtaken ! ' said the old man, 
' If thou be good company.' 

4 ' How far are you going this way ? ' 

Which made the old man for to smile ; 
1 By my faith/ said the old man, 
4 1 *m just going two mile. 

5 ' I am a poor farmer,' he said, 

' And I farm a piece of ground, 
And my half-year's rent, kind sir, 
Just comes to forty pound. 

6 ' And my landlord has not been at home, 

I Ve not seen him this twelvemonth or more, 
Which makes my rent be large ; 
I Ve to pay him just fourscore/ 

* Also among the garlands collected by J. Bell, New- 
cutle, British Museum the first, 11621 c. 2 (36), and 4 (13) ; 
the other, c 2 (70). The garlands in 4 were printed, accord, 
ing to Bell, by J. White, fl769, or by T. Saint, 11788. 

VOL. v. 17 

7 ' Thou shouldst not have told any body, 

For thieves there 's ganging many ; 
If any should light on thee, 

They '11 rob thee of thy money/ 

8 ' O never mind/ said the old man, 

' Thieves I fear on no side, 
For the money is safe in my bags, 
On the saddle on which I ride/ 

9 As they were riding along, 

The old man was thinking no ill, 
The thief he pulled out a pistol 
And bid the old man stand stilL 

10 But the old man provd crafty, 

As in the world there 's many ; 
He threw his saddle oer the hedge, 
Saying, Fetch it, if thou 'It have any. 

11 The thief got off his horse, 

With courage stout and bold, 
To search for the old man's bag, 
And gave him his horse to hold. 

12 The old man put 's foot i the stirrup 

And he got on astride ; 
To its side he clapt his spur up. 
You need not bid the old man ride. 

t Donee Ballads, III, fol. 78 b., London, Printed mod 
sold at Sympson's Warehouse, in Stonecutter-Street, Fleet- 



18 'Ortayl' said the thief, <0 stay! 

And half the share them shalt have; ' 
'Nay, by my faith/ said the old man, 

* For onoe I have bitten a knave.' 

14 The thief he was not content, 

Bat he thought there mast be bags ; 
He oat with his rusty old sword 
And ohopt the old saddle in rags. 

15 When he came to the landlord's boose, 

This old man he was almost spent ; 
Saying, Come, show me a private room 
And I 'U pay you a whole year's rent. 

16 < I 've met a fond fool by the way, 

I swapt horses and gave him no boot ; 
Bat never mind,' said the old man, 

* For I got the fond fool by the foot' 

17 He opend this rogue's portmantle, 

It was glorious to behold ; 
There were three hundred pounds in silver. 
And three hundred pounds in gold. 

18 And as he was riding home, 

And down a narrow lane, 
He espied his mare tied to a hedge, 

Saying, Prithee, Tib, wilt thou gang hame ? 

19 When he got home to his wife 

And told her what he had done, 
Up she rose and put on her clothes, 
And about the house did run. 

20 She sung, and she sung, and she sung, 

She sung with a merry devotion, 
Saying, If ever our daughter gets wed, 
It will help to enlarge her portion. 

a. There are some slight verbal differences in 

the three copies, but none worthy of notice. 

b. 1 A song I will sing unto yon, 

A song of a merry intent, 
It is of a silly old man 
That went to pay his rent, 
That went to pay his rent 

2 And as he was riding along, 

A riding along the highway, 
A gentleman-thief stops before the old man 
And thus unto him he did say. 

8 ' My friend, how dare you ride alone ? 
For so many thieves there now be ; 
If any should but light on you, 
They 'd rob you of all your money.' 

4 ' If that they should light upon me, 

I 'm sure they 'd be very ill-sped, 

For, to tell you the truth, my kind sir, 

In my saddle my money I Ve hid.' 

5 So as they were riding along, 

And going down a steep hill, 
The gentleman-thief slipped before the old 

And quickly he bid him stand stilL 

6 The old man, however, being cunning, 

As in this world there are many, 
He threw the saddle right over the hedge, 
Saying, Fetch it if thou wouldst have any. 

7 The thief being so greedy of money 

He thought that of it there 'd been bags 
Whipt out a rusty old sword 
And chopped the saddle to rags. 

8 The old man put his foot in the stirrup 

And presently he got astride ; 
He put the thief's horse to the gallop, 
You need not bid the old man ride. 

9 * Nay, stay ! nay, stay ! ' says the thief, 

1 And half the money thou shalt have ; ' 
* Nay, by my troth,' says the old man, 
' For once I have cheated a knave.' 

10 And so the old man rode along, 

And went with a merry devotion, 
Saying, If ever I live to get home, 
'T will enlarge my daughter's portion. 

11 And having arrived at home, 

And got there with merry intent, 
Says he, Landlord, show me a room, 
And I Tl pay you your half-year's rent. 



12 They opened the thief s portmanteau, 
And from it they took out so bold 
A hundred pounds in silver 
And a hundred pounds in gold. 

o-f , the traditional copies, were beyond doubt all 
derived originally from print, o is from a ; 
d f are from another edition, not recovered, 
resembling b. This had variations, espe- 
cially at the beginning and end, of which 
some specimens will suffice. 

d. 1 Oh 't is I that will sing you a song, 

A song of merry intent ; 
'T is about a silly old roan 

That was going to pay his rent. 

2 And as he was riding along, 

Along and alone in a lane, 
A gentleman-thief overtook him, 
And said, Well overtaken, old man ! 

3 ' You 're well overtaken, old man, 

You 're well overtaken by me ; ' 
4 Nay, further go,' said the old man, 
* I 'm not for thy company.' 

4, 6 are wanting, as also in e, f , (and in b). 

8 M < He shall but poorly speed, 
For all the money I have 
In my old saddle 't is hid.' 

19, 20 Oh, when that he came home, 

His daughter she looked like a ducheM, 
And his old woman capered for joy, 
And danced him a gig on her crutches. 

e. 1 Aw come now, I '11 sing you a song, 

T is a song of right merry intent, 
Concerning a silly old man 
Who went for to pay his rent 

2 And as this here silly old man 

Was riding along the lane, 
A gentleman-thief overtook him, 
Saying, Well overtaken, old man! 

3 ' What, well overtaken, do'y say ? f 

' Yes, well overtaken/ quoth he ; 
'No, no,' said the silly old man, 
* I don't want thy company/ 

8" Why, badly the thief would be sped* 
For the money I carry about me 
In the quilt o my saddle is hid/ 

19, 20 Aw, when to his home he were come, 
His daughter he dressd like a duchess, 
And his ol woman kicked and she capered 

for joy, 

And at Christmas danced jigs on her 

f . Resembles d, e in the passages cited. 


Ravenscroft's Deuteromelia, London, 1609; No 1 of Freemen's Songs, sig. B. 

JOHN DORY goes to Paris and offers King 
John, in return for a pardon asked for him- 
self and his men, to bring the French king all 
the churls in England in bonds. Nicholl, a 
Cornish man, fits out a good bark, has an 

encounter with John Dory, and after a smart 
fight takes him prisoner. 

This ballad had a remarkable popularity 
in the seventeenth century, as is evinced Ijjr 
the numerous cases of its being cited which 



Chappell haa collected, Popular Music, p. 

As to the history of the transactions set 
forth in the ballad, I am not aware that any- 
thing has been added to the account given by 
Carew in his Survey of Cornwall, 1602, p. 135, 
which Ritson has quoted in the second edi- 
tion of his Ancient Songs, II, 57, an account 
which is likely to have been taken from the 
ballad, with the specification from tradition 
that Nicholl was "son to a widow near Foy." 

44 Moreover, the prowess of one Nicholas, 
son to a widow near Foy, is descanted upon in 

an old three-man's song, namely, how he 
fought bravely ^t sea with John Dory (a Gen- 
owey, as I conjecture), set forth by John, the 
French king, and, after much bloodshed on 
both sides, took, and slew him, in revenge 
of the great ravine and cruelty which he had 
fore committed upon the Englishmen's goods 
and bodies*" (Page 316 of the edition of 

The king in the ballad would be John II, 
the Good, who was taken prisoner at Poitiers, 
and died in 1364. No John Doria is men- 
tioned as being in his service. 

1 As it fell on a holy-day, 

And vpon an holy-tide-a, 
lohn Dory bought him an ambling nag, 
To Paris for to ride-a. 

2 And when John Dory to Paris was come, 

A little before the gate-a, 
John Dory was fitted, the porter was witted 
To let him in thereat-a. 

3 The first man that John Dory did meet 

Was good king John of France-a ; 
John Dory could well of his courtesie, 
But fell downe in a trance-a. 

4 'A pardon, a pardon, my liege and my 


For my merie men and for me-a, 
And all the churles in merie England, 
I 'le bring them all bound to thee-a.' 

6 And Nicholl was then a Cornish man, 
A Me beside Bohide-a, 

And he mande forth a good blacke barke, 
With fif tie good oares on a side-a. 

6 ' Run vp, my boy, vnto the maine top, 

And looke what thou canst spie-a : ' 
1 Who ho! who ho! a goodly ship I do 


I trow it be John Dory[-a.'] 

7 They hoist their sailes, both top and top, 

The meisseine and all was tride-a, 
And euery man stood to his lot, 
What euer should betide-a. 

8 The roring cannons then were plide, 

And dub-a-dub went the drumme-a ; 
The braying trumpets lowde they cride 
To courage both all and some-a. 

9 The grappling-hooks were brought at length, 

The browne bill and the sword-a, 
John Dory at length, for all his strength, 
Was clapt fast vnder board-a. 

* The aong " I cannot eat but little meat," introduced 
into Gammer Gorton's Needle, which was acted in 1566, was 

sung to ' John Dory/ says Mr Chappell, as above ; but there 
ii nothing to show that this was the original tune. 




a. Percy Papers, " from an ancient black-letter copy c. Roxburghe, III, 204, in Ebsworth, Roxburghe Bal- 
in Bollard's collection." lads, VI, 408. 

b. Rawlinson, 566, fol. 188, 4. 

MARCH 19, 1611, there were entered to 
Richard Jones, "Captayne Jenninges his 
songe, whiche he made in the Marshalsey," 
etc., and "the second parte of the George 
A loo and the Swiftestake, beinge both bal- 
lades : " Arber, III, 456. The second part 
of the George Aloo must needs mean a sec- 
ond ballad, not the printers' second half 
(which begins in o at the stanza here num- 
bered 14). In * The Two Noble Kinsmen,' 
printed in 1634, and perhaps earlier, the 
Jailer's Daughter sings the two following 
stanzas (Dyce, XI, 386) : 

The George Alow came from the south, 

From the coast of Barbary-a, 
And there he met with brave gallants of war, 

By one, by two, by three-a. 

haild, well haild, you jolly gallants, 
And whither now are you bound-a ? 
Oh, let me have your company 
Till [I] come to the sound-a. 

These verses, whether accurately reported 
or not, certainly seem to belong to another 
ballad. Whether they are from the first part 
or the second part, we have no means of assur- 
ing ourselves. It is to be observed that in 
the ballad before us the George Aloe and the 
Sweepstake are sailing for Safee, and in the 

* There is an entry, July 31, 1590, of A Ditty of the 
fight upon the seas the fourth of Jane last in the Straits 
of Gibraltar between the George and the Thomas Bonaven- 
ture and eight galleys with three frigates (Arber, II, 557), 
but it is likely that there were Georges many, and only one 
George Aloe. 

other case the George Aloe is coming from 
the south, from the coast of Barbary, so that 
the adventure, whatever it was, may have 
occurred in the homeward voyage; but the 
circumstance is not decisive.* 

The George Aloe and the Sweepstake, mer- 
chantmen, are bound for Safee. The George 
Aloe anchors, the Sweepstake keeps on, is 
taken by a French rover, and her crew thrown 
overboard. The George Aloe hears of this, 
and sets out to take the Frenchman. Her 
second shot carries away the enemy's main- 
mast; the Frenchmen cry for mercy. The 
English ask what they did with the crew of 
the Sweepstake ; the Frenchmen confess that 
they threw them into the sea. Such mercy 
as you shewed such mercy shall you have, 
say the English, and deal with the French 

4 Aboard,' 6 a , 16 2 , 1 suppose to mean along- 
side. 4 Amain,' 7 1 , 16 1 , is strike (sails) in 
sign of surrender. The French use the word 
derived from their own language ; the Eng- 
lish say, strike. ' Gallant * Englishmen in 7 1 , 
after ' English dogs ' in 6 1 , is unlikely cour- 
tesy, and is not found in 16 1 . 

4 The Swepstacke ' is a king's ship in 1545, 
and ' The Sweepstakes ' apparently again in 
1666 : Historical MSS Commission, 12th Re- 
port, Appendix, Part VII, pp. 8, 45. 

Mr Ebsworth has pointed out that a ballad called The 
Sailor's Joy, the name of the tune to which ' The George 
Aloe and the Sweepstake' was to be sung, was entered 
in the Stationers' Registers, January 14, 1595: Arber, H, 



1 THE George Aloe and the Sweepstakes too, 

With hey, with ho, for and a nony no 
They were two merchant-men, a sailing for 

And along the course of Barbary 

2 [The George Aloe to anchor came, 

But the jolly Sweepstake kept on her way.] 

3 They had not sayled leagues two or three 
Before they spyed a sail upon the sea. 

4 * O hail, O hail, you lusty gallants, 

From whence is your good ship, and whither 
is she bound ? ' 

6 '0 we are some merchant-men, sailing for 

Safee : ' 
' And we be French rebels, a roving on the sea. 

6 ' hail, O hail, you English dogs, [hail !] ' 

4 The[n] come aboard, you French dogs, and 
strike down your sail ! ' 

7 ' Amain, amain, you gallant Englishmen ! ' 

' Come, you French s wades, and strike down 
your sails ! ' 

8 They laid us aboard on the starboard side, 
And they overthrew us into the sea so wide. 

9 When tidings to the George Aloe came 
That the jolly Sweepstakes by a Frenchman 

was tane, 

10 * To top, to top, thou little ship-boy, 

And see if this French man-of-war thou canst 

11 ' A sail, a sail, under your lee, 
Yea, and another under her bough/ 

12 * Weigh anchor, weigh anchor, O jolly boat- 

We will take this Frenchman if we can/ 

13 We had not sailed leagues two or three 

But we met the French man-of-war upon the 

14 ' All hail, all hail, you lusty gallants, 

Of whence is your fair ship, and whither is she 

16 'O we are merchant-men, and bound for 

Safee ; ' 
' And we are Frenchmen, roving upon the sea. 

16 ' Amain, amain, you English dogs ! ' 

' Come aboard, you French rogues, and strike 
your sails ! ' 

17 The first good shot the George Aloe shot, 
It made the Frenchmen's hearts sore afraid. 

18 The second shot the George Aloe did afford, 
He struck the main-mast over the board. 


19 * Have mercy, have mercy, you brave Eng- 

lish [men].' 
1 what have you done with our brethren on 

[shore] ? ' 
As they sail[ed]. 

20 ' We laid them aboard on the starboard side, 
And we threw them into the sea so wide.' 

21 * Such mercy as you have shewed unto them, 
Even the like mercy shall you have again.' 

22 We laid them aboard on the larboard side, 
And we threw them into the sea so wide. 

23 Lord, how it grieved our hearts full sore 

To see the drowned Frenchmen float along the 
shore I 

24 Now, gallant seamen all, adieu, 

With hey, with ho, for and a nony no 
This is the last news that I can write to you. 
To England's coast from Barbary 

a. The Seamans only Delight: Shewing the 
brave fight between the George Aloe, the 
Sweepstakes, and certain French Men at sea. 

Tune, The Sailor's Joy, etc. (No printers 
given in the transcript) 
b. The Saylors only Delight : Shewing the brave 



fight between the George-Aloe, the Sweep- 
stake, and certain Frenchmen at sea. To 
the tune of The Saylors Joy. London, 
Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere and J. 
[Wright] (torn). 1665-80, Chappett. 

O. The Sailors onely Delight : Shewing the brave 
fight between George- Aloe, the Sweep-stakes, 
and certain French-men at sea. To the tune 
of The Saylor's Joy. Printed for F. Coles, 
J. Wright, Tho. Vere, and W. Gilbertson. 
The earliest known ballad by the four to- 
gether is dated 1656, Chappell. (See No 
273, Appendix, III, b.) 

a, 1, 24. Burden 1 , anony. 

1. Burden*, course should probably be coast. 

2. Wanting ; supplied from b, o. 
4 1 . hail, oh. 6 1 , 6 1 , 15 1 . Oh. 
10 2 . Frenchman of war. 

13*. French Men of War. 

17 s . French Mens. 

19. Ends torn away. Percy gives, after eng- 
lish, A, which may be the first half of an 
M ; after on, fl, which may possibly be a 
wrong reading of fh. Shore is not what we 
should expect. Defects supplied from b, o. 

23 9 . French Men. 

b. 1. Burden 1 , a nony. Burden*, alongst the 

1 1 , 9 a . Sweepstake. 

1 2 . O they were marchant men and bound. 

3 2 . But they met with a Frenchman of war 

4 1 . All hayl, all hayL 

4 2 . Of whence is your fair ship, whether are 
you bound. 

5 1 . We are Englishmen and bound. 

6 a . Of whence is your fair ship, or whether 

are you bound. 

6. Wanting. 1*. swads. 10*. Frenchman* 
II 1 . our lee. ll a . under her obey. 
13 2 . Frenchman. 14 2 . is it. 
15 2 . I, and we are Frenchmen and war. 
16 2 . strike down. 17 2 . He made : heart 
18 2 . strook. 19 1 . brave Englishmen. 
19 2 . brethen on shore. 
Burden*. As they sayled into Barbary. 
23 1 . greives. 23 2 . swim along. 
o. 4 2 . or whither. 7 1 . Englishman. 7 a . sayle. 
14 2 . whither are you. 16 2 . rogue. 
17 2 . hearts. 18 2 . struck their. 
19*. brethren on shore. Burden*, sayled in. 
21 2 . Then the. Variations otherwise as in b. 



A. * Sir Walter Raleigh sailing in the Low-lands,' etc., 
Pepys Ballads, IV, 196, No 189 (1682-85). 

B. a. 'The Goulden Vanitie,' Logan's Pedlar's Pack, 
p. 42; Mrs Gordon's Memoir of John Wilson, II, 317. 
b. As sung by Mr G. Du Mauner, sent me by J. R. 
Lowell, o. ' The French Galley,' Motherwell's MS., 
p. 420. d. Communicated by Mrs Moncrieff, of 
London, Ontario, e. ' The Lowlands Low,' Find- 
lay MSS, I, 161. f Sharpe's Ballad Book, 1880, 
p. 160, notes of Sir Walter Scott. 

C. a. ' Golden Vanity, or, The Low Lands Low,' Pitts, 
Seven Dials, in Logan's Pedlar's Pack, p. 45; fibs- 
worth, Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 419. b. * The Low- 
lands Low,' Long, Dictionary of the Isle of Wight Dia- 
lect, p. 145. c. * Low in the Lowlands Low,' Chris- 
tie, I, 238. d. * The Golden Vanity,' Baring-Gould 
and Sheppard, Songs of the West,' No 64. e. * The 
French Gallio,' * The French Gallolee,' Buchan 
MSS, II, 390, 414. f. 'The Turkish Galley,' Mo- 
therwell's MS., p. 392, and Note-Book, p. 60. 
g. ' The Lowlands Low,' Macmath MS., p. 80. 

A also in Euing, No 884, Crawford, No 
1078, Huth, II, No 134; all by the same 
printer, 1682-85. 

Motherwell enters the first stanza of an- 

other copy of * The Turkish Galley ' in his 
Note-Book, p. 10, and refers to three copies 
more, besides B d, at p. 51. 

There is a retouched copy of C in English 



County Songs, Lucy E. Broadwood and J. A. 
Fuller Maitland, p. 182. 

B, C, are probably traditional variations of 
the broadside A. The conclusion of the 
broadside is sufficiently inadequate to impel 
almost any singer to attempt an improvement, 
and a rather more effective catastrophe is the 
only signal difference besides names. It is, 
however, not quite impossible that the ulti- 
mate source of the traditional copies may be 
as old as the broadside. 

A. * The Sweet Trinity,' a ship built by 
Sir Walter Raleigh, has been taken by a gal- 
ley of a nationality not specified. The master 
of some English ship asks what seaman will 
take the galley and redeem The Sweet Trin- 
ity. A ship-boy asks what the reward shall 
be ; the reward shall be gold and fee, and the 
master's eldest daughter. The ship-boy, who 
is possessed of an auger which bores fifteen 
holes at once, swims to the galley, sinks her, 
and releases The Sweet Trinity ; then swims 
back to his ship and demands his pay. The 
master will give gold and fee, but not his 
daughter to wife. The ship-boy says, Fare- 
well, since you are not so good as your 

B. No ship has been taken by an enemy. 
The Golden Vanity, Golden Victorie, e, falls 
in with a French galley, which a cabin-boy 
undertakes to sink for a reward. The reward 
is to be, a, b, an estate in the North Country ; 
o, half the captain's lands in the South Coun- 
try, meat and fee, and the captain's eldest 
daughter ; e, gold and fee, and the captain's 
daughter. The boy is rolled up in a bull- 
skin and thrown over the deck-board (a cor- 
ruption, see C). He takes out an instrument, 
and bores thirty holes at twice, a ; a gimlet, 

and bores sixty holes and thrice, b ; he struck 
her with an instrument, bored thirty holes 
at twice, o ; threescore holes he scuttled in a 
trice, d ; struck her wi an auger, thirty three 
and thrice, e. After sinking the galley he 
calls to the Golden Vanity to throw him a 
rope, take him on board, and be as good as 
their word, all which is refused. He threat- 
ens to serve them as he has the galley, a, b, 
d ; they take him up and prove better than 
their word, a, d, or as good, b. (Of f very 
little was remembered by Scott, and the bal- 
lad was besides confounded with ( The George 

C. The distinguishing feature is that the 
boy dies after he is taken up from the water, 
and is sewed up in a cow's hide and thrown 
overboard, 4 to go down with the tide.' The 
Golden Vanity, a-d, The Gold Pinnatree, e, 
The Golden Trinitie, g, is in danger from a 
Turkish galleon, a, f , g, a Spanish, b, o (pirate 
Targalley), d, French, e. The captain of the 
English ship promises the cabin-boy gold, fee, 
and daughter, if he will sink the enemy. The 
boy has, and uses, an auger, to bore two holes 
at twice, a, that bores twenty holes in twice, 
b, to bore two holes at once, o ; a case of in- 
struments, ca's fifty holes and drives them a' 
at once, e ; an instrument, and bores nine holes 
in her water-sluice, f ; an auger fitted for the 
use, and bores in her bottom a watery sluice, g. 
The master will not take him on board, will 
kill him, shoot him, sink him, a-d ; will not 
keep his bargain, ( for as you 've done to her, 
so would you do to me,' e (compare the threat 
in B 13). The boy is taken up by his mess- 
mates and dies on the deck, a, o, d; is sewed 
in a cow-hide and thrown overboard, a, o-g ; 
in b sinks from exhaustion and drowns. 

Pepjs Ballad*, IV, 196, No 189. 

1 SIB WALTER RAWLEIGH has built a ship, 
In the Neatherlands 

Sir Walter Rawleigh has built a ship. 

In the Neather-lands 
And it is called The Sweet Trinity, 
And was taken by the false gallaly. 

Sailing in the Low-lands 

Scott uyiat thetnd,"! will not ewear to the accuracy of the above." 



2 ' 10 there never a seaman bold 

In the Neather-lands 
Is there never a seaman bold 

In the Neather-lands 
That will go take this false gallaly, 
And to redeem The Sweet Trinity?' 

Sailing, etc. 

3 Then spoke the little ship-boy ; 

In the Neather-lands 
Then spoke the little ship-boy ; 

In the Neather-lands 
* Master, master, what will you give me 
And I will take this false gallaly, 
And release The Sweet Trinity ? ' 

Sailing, etc. 

4 * I 11 give thee gold, and I le give thee 


In the Neather-lands 
1 11 give thee gold and I 'le give thee fee, 

In the Neather-lands 
And my eldest daughter thy wife shall be.' 

Sailing, etc. 

5 He set his breast, and away he did swim, 
Until he came to the false gallaly. 

6 He had an augor fit for the [njonce, 

The which will bore fifteen good holes at once. 

7 Some ware at cards, and some at dice, 
Until the salt water flashd in their eyes. 

8 Some cut their hats, and some cut their caps, 
For to stop the salt-water gaps. 

9 He set his breast, and away did swim, 
Until he came to his own ship again. 

10 ' I have done the work I promised to do, 
For I have sunk the false gallaly, 

And released The Sweet Trinity. 

11 t You promised me gold, and you promised me 

Your eldest daughter my wife she must be.' 

12 * You shall have gold, and you shall have fee, 
But my eldest daughter your wife shall never 

For sailing, etc. 

13 t Then fare you well, you cozening lord, 
Seeing you are not so good as your word.' 

For sailing, etc. 

14 And thus I shall conclude my song, 

Of the sailing in the Low-lands 
Wishing all happiness to all seamen both old 

and young. 
In their sailing in the Low-lands 


a Logan'fl Pedlar's Pack, p. 42, as sung about 1840 by 
Mr P. 8. Fraaer, of Edinburgh, and obtained by him orally 
b. As sung by Mr George Du Maurier to Mr J R Lowell, 
1884 C. Motherwell's MS, p 420; from Mr John Cle- 
land, marble-cutter, Glasgow, who had it of Mr Forrester, 
Stirling, d. Communicated by Mrs Moncrieff, as taught 
to a relative of hers by an old Scottish lady about 1830. 
6. Findlay MSS, I, 161, "from Strang, Divinity Student, 
1868." f. Sharpe's Ballad Book, 1880, p. 160,note by Sir 
Walter Scott. 

1 THERE was a gallant ship, and a gallant ship 

was she 

Eck iddle du, and the Lowlands low 
And she was called The Goulden Vanitie. 
As she sailed to the Lowlands low 

VOL. V. 18 

2 She had not sailed a league, a league but only 

Eck, etc. 

When she came up with a French gallee. 
As she sailed, etc. 

3 Out spoke the little cabin-boy, out spoke he ; 

4 What will you give me if I sink that French 

As ye sail, etc. 

4 Out spoke the captain, oat spoke he ; 

' We '11 gie ye an estate in the North Countrie.' 
As we sail, etc. 



5 'Then row me up ticht in a black bull's skin, 
And throw me oer deck-buird, sink I or swim.' 

As ye sail, etc. 

6 So they Ve rowed him up ticht in a black bull's 

And have thrown him oer deck-buird, sink he 

or soom. 
As they sail, etc. 

7 About, and about, and about went he, 
Until he cam up with the French gallee. 

As they sailed, etc. 

8 O some were playing cards, and some were 

playing dice, 
When he took out an instrument, bored thirty 

holes at twice. 
As they sailed, etc. 

9 Then some they ran with cloaks, and some 

they ran with caps, 

To try if they could stap the saut-water draps. 
As they sailed, etc. 

10 About, and about, and about went he, 
Until he cam back to The Goulden Vanitie. 

.As they sailed, etc. 

11 'Now throw me oer a rope and pu me up on 


And prove unto me as guid as your word.' 
As ye sail, etc. 

12 * We 11 no throw you oer a rope, nor pu yon up 

on buird, 

Nor prove unto you as guid as our word.' 
As we sail, etc. 

13 Out spoke the little cabin-boy, out spoke he ; 
Then hang me, I '11 sink ye as I sunk the 

French gallee. 
As ye sail, etc. 

14 But they Ve thrown him oer a rope, and have 

pu'd him up on buird, 
And have proved unto him far better than 

their word. 
As they sailed, etc. 

a. Stall-copy, Pitts, Seven Dials, Logan's Pedlar's Pack, 
p. 45. b. Long's Dictionary of the Isle of Wight Dialect, 
p. 145. o. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 238, com- 
pounded from the recitation of an old woman of Buckie, 
Banff shire, and a chap-book copy. d. Baring-Gould and 
Sheppard, Songs of the West, No 64, Part III, p. 24, Part 
IV, p. xxxi, taken down from James Olver, Launceston (an 
improved copy), e. Bnchan's MSS, II, 390, 414. f . Mother- 
well's MS , p. 392, and Note-Book, p. 50, from the recitation 
of Agnes Lyle, 24th August, 1825. g Macmath MS., p. 80, 
from the recitation of Miss Agnes Macmath, 1893; learned 
at Airds of Kells, Kirkcudbrightshire. 

1 ' I HAVE a ship in the North Countrie, 

And she goes by the name of The Golden 

Vanity ; 
I 'm afraid she will be taken by some Turkish 

As she sails on the Low Lands Low.' 

2 Then up starts our little cabin-boy, 

Saying, Master, what will you give me if I do 

them destroy ? 
' I will give you gold, I will give you store, 

You shall have my daughter when I return on 

If ye sink them in the Low Lands Low.' 

3 The boy bent his breast and away he jumpt in ; 
He swam till he came to this Turkish galleon, 

As she laid on the Low Lands Low. 

4 The boy he had an auger to bore holes two at 

While some were playing cards, and some 

were playing dice, 

He let the water in, and it dazzled in their eyes, 
And he sunk them in the Low Lands Low. 

5 The boy he bent his breast and away he swam 

back again, 

Saying, Master take me up, or I shall be slain, 
For I have sunk them in the Low Lands 

6 * I '11 not take you up/ the master he cried ; 
4 1 '11 not take you up/ the master replied ; 



< I will kill you, I will shoot you, I will send 

you with the tide, 
I will sink you in the Low Lands Low/ 

7 The boy he swam round all by the starboard- 

They laid him on the deck, and it 's there he 

soon died ; 

Then they sewed him up in an old cow's-hide, 
And they threw him overboard, to go down 

with the tide, 
And they sunk him in the Low Lands Low. 

A. Sir Walter Raleigh sailing in the Low-lands : 

Shewing how the famous ship called The 
Sweet Trinity was taken by a false gaily, 
and how it was again restored by the craft 
of a little sea-boy, who sunk the galley : as 
the following song will declare. To the 
tune of The Sailing of the Low-land. 

(End.) This may be printed. R. L. S. (Sir R. 
L'Estrange was licenser from 1663 to 1685.) 

Printed for J. Conyers at the Black-Raven, the 
first shop in Fetter-Lane next Holborn. (J. 
Conyers, 1682-91. Chappell.) 

a. 7 1 . at somt dice. 

B. a. 8 1 . Oh. 

b. The variations are but trifling. 

7. And awa, and awa, and awa swam he, 

Till he swam up to. 
8*. He just took out a gimlet and bored sixty 

holes and thrice. 

9 1 . But they couldna run awa from the salt- 
water drops. 
10. Then awa, and awa, and awa swam he, 

Till he swam back to. 
12 1 . I '11 na: rope, I 'Una. 
12 s . I '11 na : unto thee : my word. 
13. An ye na throw me oer a rope an ye na 

pull me up aboard, 
I '11 just sink ye. 

14 s . And they proved unto him as good as 
their word. 

o. 1 There was an auncient ship, and an auncient 

ship was she, 

Eee eedle ee, in the Lowlands so low 
And the name of the ship was The Golden 

As she sailed from the Lowlands so low 

8 She had not sailed a league, no, not a league 

but three, 
Until that shee spied a French galley. 

8 ' It ' master, O master, what '11 ye gie me, 
If I go and sink yon French galley? ' 

4 O then said the master, I will gie till ye 
The half of my lands in the South Countrie. 

5 ' It 's I '11 gie ye meat, and 1 11 gie ye fee, 
And my eldest daughter your bride for to be/ 

6 * It 's wrap me up tight in a gude bull's-skin, 
And throw me over deck-board, sink I or 


7 So they wrapt him tight in a gude bull's- skin, 
And they 've thrown him over deck-board, sink 

he or swim. 

8 And about, and about, and about went he, 
Until that he came to the French galley. 

9 It 's some were playing at cards, and some were 

playing at dice, 

But he struck her with an instrument, bored 
thirty holes at twice. 

10 Some ran wi hats, and some ran wi caps, 
All for to stop the salt-waters draps. 
As they, etc. 

3*, 4. oh, Oh. 

d. 1 There was an ancient ship, and an ancient ship 

was she, 

Italy and the Lowlands low 
And her name it was The Golden Vanity. 
As she sailed for the Lowlands low 

2 She had not sailed a mile, a mile but barely 

When she hove in sight of a French galley. 

8 Up spak the prentice-boy; What'll ye gie me, 
If I gang and sink yon French galley? 
As she sails, etc. 

4 Up spak the captain; What '11 1 gie ye, 

As she sails, etc. 

5 forgotten. 



6 'It 's row me up in a tough bull's-skin, 

And throw me overboard, let me sink or swim. 1 
As we sail, etc. 

7 They 've rowed him up tight in a tough bull's- 

And they Ve thrown him overboard, let him sink 

or swim. 
As they sailed, etc. 

8 Then about, and about, and about went he, 
Until that he reached that French galley. 

As she sailed, etc. 

And three-score holes he scuttled in a trice. 
As she sailed, etc. 

10 ' Now throw me owre a rope and pull me up on 


And prove unto me as gude as yere word ' 
As we sail, etc. 

11 'I'll not throw ye owre a rope, nor pull ye up 

on board, 

Nor prove unto ye as guid as my word.' 
As we sail, etc. 

12 * Throw me owre a rope and pull me up on 


Or I '11 do to ye as I did the French galley.' 
As she sailed, etc. 

13 Then they threw him owre a rope and pulled 

him up on board, 

And proved unto him far better than their word. 
As they sailed, etc. 

e. 1 O she was an English ship, an an English ship C. 

was she, 

Hey diddie dee for the Lowlands low 
And her name it was The Golden Victorie. 
As she sailed for the Lowlands low. 


And she fell in wi a French galee. 
As she sailed, etc. 

8 ' what '11 ye gie me, captain, what '11 ye gie me, 
If I go an sink yon French galee ? ' 
As she sails, etc. 

4 ' O I'll gie thee goud, an I '11 gie thee fee, 
An my eldest daughter your wife shall be.' 

As we sail, etc. 

5 ' Then wrap me up tight in tough bull-hide, 
An to sink or swim ye '11 pitch me ower the side.' 

As we sail, etc. 

6 They wrapt him up tight in tough bull-hide, 
An to sink or swim they pitchd him ower the 

As they sailed, etc. 

7 He swam, an he swam, an he better swam, 
Until he to the French galley cam. 

As she sailed, etc. 

8 O some were playin cards, an some were playin 

But he struck her wi an auger thirty three and 

As she sailed, etc. 

9 Aboot, an aboot, an aboot went she, 
Until she cam to the bottom of the sea. 

As she sailed, etc. 

f. Sir Walter Scott's recollections here seem not trust- 
worthy, and of this he was himself aware. 

1 The George-a-Low eame down the strait, 

Hey low and the Lowlands so low 
And she will be lost, both vessel and freight, 
For the chasing of a French galene O 

5 ' Row me in a good bull-skin, 

And fling me overboard, for to sink or to 

For the sinking of yon French galene O 

6 They row him, etc. 

8 Some were playing at cards and dice, 
When the sea came gushing in a trice. 
For the sinking, etc. 

b. 1 Our ship she was called The Golden Vanitie ; 
We had sailed from our port about miles fifty- 

When up came with us a Spanish gallee, 
To sink us in the Lowlands low. 

2 Our master wrung his hands, but our little 

Said, What will you give me, master, if I do 

them destroy ? 
'Oh I will give you gold, and my daughter too, 

with joy, 
If you sink them,' etc. 

3 The boy gave a nod, and then jumped into 

the sea, 
And he swam till he came to the Spanish 

gallee ; 
He climbed up aboard, and below to work 

went he, 
To sink them, etc. 



4 For this boy he had an anger that bored 

twenty holes in twice, 
And while some were playing cards, and 

some were playing dice, 
Through the bottom of the ship he bored it 

in a trice, 
And he sunk them, etc. 

6 The galley she went down, but the boy swam 

back again, 
Crying, Master, pick me up, or I shall soon 

be slain ; 
Pray heave to me a rope, or I shall sink in 

the main ; 
For I 've sunk them, etc. 

6 * I will not pick you up,' the master loudly 


* I will not heave a rope,* the master he replied; 
'I will kill you, I will sink you, I will leave 

you in the tide, 
I will sink you,' etc. 

7 The boy he swam around the ship from side 

to side, 
But he could not get aboard, so he sank, and 

he died, 
And they left him where he was, to go down 

with the tide ; 
So they sunk him, etc. 

c. 1 There was a good ship from the North Coun- 


Sailing low in the Lowlands low 
There was, etc. 

And that ship's name was The Golden Van- 

Sailing low in the Lowlands, low in the sea, 
Sailing low in the Lowlands low 

The master said, I fear for my good ship 

Oh, I fear for my good ship, The Golden 

That she will be taken by the pirate Tar- 

As she sails in, etc. 

2* ' Oh, master, good master, what will you give me 
If I sink yon Targalley low m the sea?' 

10 stanzas. 

d 1 A ship I have got in the North Country, 

And she goes by the name of The Golden 

Vanity ; 

O I fear she '11 be taken by a Spanish Galahe, 
As she sails by the Lowlands low. 

8 stanzas. 

6. Buchan ; MSS, H, 390. 

1 Our ship sailed to the North Country, 

Sing, How the Lowlands lo[w] 
Our ship sailed on to the North Countrie, 
And the name o her was The Gold Pinnatree, 
She was as fine a vessel as ever sailed the sea, 

And she sails by the Lowlands lo[w] 

2 We hadna sailed leagues but only three, 

Till the captain from the maindeck fixed an ee ; 
He spied a lofty frigate was sailing closely tee, 
And her name was The French Gallio. 

8 Then out it speaks the pilot, by the mainyard 

did stand, 

Says, O my pretty boys, we are all undone ; 
We must prepare to fight or be sunk to the sand, 
For yonder comes the French gallio. 

4 Then spoke the little cabin-boy, [where stood 


Said, O my loving master, what will ye gie me 
And I will sink this proud Gallio in the sea, 
And I will sink the French gallio? 

5 ' I will gie you gold, boy, and I will gie you fee, 
Besides a rarer gift that I will give thee ; 

Ye 'se have my eldest daughter your wedded 

wife to be, 
If ye will sink the French gallio.' 

6 The boy bent his breast, and away swam he, 
And took a bold venture thro the stormy sea, 
And cam close by his enemy, as sly as he could 

It was to sink the French gallio. 

7 Some there were at cards, and some there were 

at dice, 

But the little cabm-boy was at the best device, 
He was sinking the French gallio in the sea, 
He was sinking the French gallio. 

8 This boy had a case o fine instruments, 

He ca'd fifty holes, and drove them a' at once, 
And he soon bank the French gallio in the sea, 
And he soon sank the French gallio. 

9 Then the boy bent hi breast, and back swam he, 
Till that he cam to The Gold Pinnatree ; 
Says, Now, my loving master, what will ye gie 

For I have sunk the French gallio. 

10 'Now give to me my gold, master, [give to me 

my fee,] 

Or give to me the other rare gifts ye promised 
me ; 



It was your eldest daughter, my wedded wife to 

For the sinking o the French gallio.' 

11 'Ye shall have no gold, boy, ye shall have no 

I wadna ware my daughter on ony such as 

For as you've done to her, boy, so wad you do to 

By the sinking o the French [gallio]/ 

12 Then they put out their long-boat and catcbed 

him by the side, 

And rowed him into ane auld cow's-hide, 
And tossed him overboard, to float on the tide, 
For sinking the French galho. 

Gallio may be surmised to be properly galley 0. 

The other copy in Buchan's MSS, II, 414, is only 
the foregoing a little retouched or regulated. It 
has throughout Gallolee for Gallio. The first line 
of the burden is, Sing, Low, the -Lowlands low. 

4 1 . where stood he. 6 8 . could dee. 

10 1 . give to me my fee. 

f. 1 I spied a ship, and a ship was she, 

Sing, Oh, the low and the Lowlands low 
And she was called the Turkish Galley, 
She was sailing in the Lowlands, low, low, 

She was sailing in the Lowlands low. 

2 * Master, master, what wud ye gie me 
Gin I wud sink yon Turkish galley? 

She 's sailing, etc/ 

3 * 1 11 gie you gold, I '11 gie you fee, 
Gin ye wud sink yon Turkish galley, 

That is sailing,' etc. 

4 He bent his breast, and awa swam he, 
Till he cam to yon Turkish galley, 

That 's sailing, etc. 

5 He had an instrument, made for the use, 
He bored nine holes in her water-sluice, 

Left her sinking, etc. 

$ Some took their hats, and some took their caps, 
All for to stop her watery leaks. 
She was sinking, etc. 

7 They took him up by their ship-side, 
They sewed him in an auld cow's-hide, 
Left him sinking, etc. 

Motherwell sent this copy to C. K. Sharps in a letter 
dated October 8, 1825, in which he says : 1 also 
send rather a curious song, which perchance 
you may have seen, entitled * The Turkish Gal- 
ley/ the air of which pleased me much. But as 
I learn there are two other different sets of the 
words more complete than my copy, and with 
different airs, I shall defer sending the rausick 
till I can send also that which belongs to the 
other copies. 

g. 1 There was a ship of the North Countrie, 

And the name of the ship was The Golden 

She was sailing in the Lowlands low, low, 

She was sailing in the Lowlands low. 


And the name of the ship was The Turkish 

And she was sailing in the Lowlands low, 

low, low, 
She was sailing, etc. 

3 ' O captain, O captain/ said the young cabin- 


' What will you give me if yon ship I do de- 
And sink her in/ etc. 

4 * I '11 give you gold, and I '11 give you fee, 
And my eldest daughter your wedded wife shall 

If you sink her in/ etc. 

5 The boy bent his bow, and away swam he, 
Until that he came to the Turkish gallee 

She was sailing in, etc. 

6 The boy had an auger, right fitted for the use, 
And into her bottom he bored a watery sluice. 

She is sinking in, etc. 

7 The boy bent his bow, and back swam he, 
Until that he came to the Golden Trinitie. 

She is sailing in, etc. 

8 ' O captain, captain, take me on board, 
And O be as good, as good as your word, 

For I 've sunk her in the Lowlands low, low, 

I 've sunk/ etc. 

9 They threw him a rope oer the larboard side, 
And sewed him up in an auld cow's-hide, 
And threw him out to a fair wind and tide, 

And sunk him in, etc. 




Bagford Ballads, I, 65. 

OTHER black-letter copies are Pepys, IV, 
202, No 195 ; Roxburghe, III, 56 ; Euing, No 
108; British Museum, 112. f. 44 (19). This 
copy is printed in HalliwelFs Early Naval 
Ballads, p. 59, Bell's Early Ballads, p. 167, 
Ebsworth's Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 426. 

There are Aldermary Churchyard copies, 
as Roxburghe Ballads, III, 652, 861 ; Scottish 
stall-copies, as Greenock, W. Scott, Stirling, 
M. Randall ; English, by Pitts, Seven Dials, 
one of which is printed in Logan's Pedlar's 
Pack, p. 1. 

A copy in Buchan's MSS, II, 245, is 
nearly the old broadside; another, II, 417, 
is the stall-copy. Kinloch, MSS, V, 109, II, 
265, has the stall-copy from oral transmission 
(with Weir for Ward). Rev. S. Baring-Gould 
has recently taken down this ballad (much 
changed by tradition) in the west of England. 

Captain Ward, a famous rover, wishes to 
make his peace with the king, and offers 
thirty ton of gold as "ransom" for himself 
and his men. The king will not trust a man 
who has proved false to France and to Spain, 
and sends the Rainbow, with five hundred 
men, against Ward. The Rainbow has easy 
work with Dutch, Spaniards, and French, but 
her fifty brass pieces have no effect on Ward ; 
though the Rainbow is brass without, he is 
steel within, 8 2 (suggested by Sir Andrew 
Barton,' A 27 1 , B 25 1 , 4 He is brass within and 
steel without).' The Rainbow retires, and re- 
ports to the king that Ward is too strong to 

be taken. The king laments that he has lost 
three captains, any one of whom would have 
brought Ward in : George Clifford, Earl of 
Cumberland, fl^OS, Charles Blount, Lord 
Mount joy, |1606 (both of whom had a part in 
the defeat of the Armada), and Robert De- 
vereux, Earl of Essex, |1601. 

The Rainbow was the name of one of 
Drake's four ships in his expedition against 
Cadiz in 1587. The Rainbow is mentioned 
very often from 1589 ; as in The Manuscripts 
of the Earl Cowper, vol. i, Hist. MSS Com- 
mission, XUth Report, Appendix, Part I; 
Index in Part III of the same, p. 296. 

John Ward, an Englishman of Kent, is said 
to have commenced ' rover * about 1604, by 
inducing the crew of a king's ship in which 
he had some place to turn pirates under his 
command. His race, though eventful, was, 
naturally enough, not long. He seems not to 
be heard of after 1609, in which year Ward 
and his colleague, Dansekar, are spoken of as 
the " two late famous pirates." See Mr Ebs- 
worth's preface to the ballad, VI, 428 ff., 
founded on Andrew Barker's book about 
Ward and Dansekar, published in the year 
last named. 

Two other ballad-histories, ' The Seamen's 
Song of Captain Ward ' and < The Seamen's 
Song of Dansekar' (i. e. Dansekar and Ward), 
entered in the Stationers' Registers July 3, 
1609, are given by Mr Ebsworth, VI, 784, 



1 STRIKE up, you lusty gallants, with musick 7 ' And will not let our merchants ships pass as 

and sound of drum, 
For we have descryed a rover, upon the sea is 

His name is Captain Ward, right well it doth 

There has not been such a rover found out this 

thousand year. 

they did before ; 
Such tydings to our king is come, which 

grieves his heart full sore.' 
With that this gallant Rainbow she shot, out of 

her pride, 
Full fifty gallant brass pieces, charged on every 


2 For he hath sent unto our king, the sixth of 8 And yet these gallant shooters prevailed not a 

Desiring that he might come in, with all his 

company : 
' And if your king will let me come till I my 

tale have told, 
I will bestow for my ransome full thirty tun of 


Though they were brass on the out-side, brave 

Ward was steel within ; 
' Shoot on, shoot on,' says Captain Ward, 

' your sport well pleaseth me, 
And he that first gives over shall yield unto 

the sea. 

3 ' nay ! nay ! ' then said our king, '0 9 ' I never wrongd an English ship, but Turk 

and King of Spain, 
For and the jovial Dutch-man as I met on the 

If I had known your king but one two years 

I would have savd brave Essex life, whose 

death did grieve me sore. 

10 4 Go tell the King of England, go tell him thus 

from me, 
If he reign king of all the land, I will reign 

king at sea.' 
With that the gallant Rainbow shot, and shot, 

and shot in vain, 
And left the rover's company, and returnd 

home again. 
5 The Dutch-man and the Spaniard she made 

them for to flye, 11 * Our royal king of England, your ship 's re- 

Also the bonny French-man, as she met him on turnd again, 

the sea : "For Card's ship IB so efcrotig \\, never \riSl 

"When as this gaXWllX&mWw did come "where 

'W aid did lye, 

^^NYieTe IR &ve csxptaiiv oi \K\ft ship f ' t\u& gal- 
lant Rainbow did cry. 

6 * O that am I,' says Captain Ward, * there 's 

nay ! this may not be, 
To yield to such a rover my self will not agree ; 
He hath deceivd the French-man, likewise the 

King of Spain, 
And how can he be true to me that hath been 

false to twain ? ' 

4 With that our king provided a ship of worthy 

Rainbow she is called, if you would know her 

name ; 
Now the gallant Rainbow she rowea upon the 

Five hundred gallant seamen to bear her com- 


or ^ard'a ship IB so efcrotig \\, 

tane *. ' 
everlasting \ ' says our king, 4 1 have lost 

jewels three, 
Which would have gone unto the seas and 

brought proud Ward to me. 

Ami ? UT ^r v 6 ' u- , l2tThe fir8t wa8 Lord O*"*. Earl of Cumber- 

And if thou art the king's fair ship, thou art fo^ . 

welcome unto me : ' on. ' , . 

tin**M *i. u * T> i , ne 8econd ^as the lord Mountjoy, as you 

is b lit ef 8ay8 ' UF g 8ha11 understand 5 

TfiAf 1 *^,^!* if^ 6 ! ^ i , The ***** wafl brave Essex, from field would 

Inat thou shouldst lye upon the sea and play never fl . 

the arrant thief, ' 


Which would a gone unto the seas and brought 
proud Ward to me/ 

The Famous Sea-Fight between Captain Ward 
and the Rainbow. To the tune of Captain 
Ward, etc. Licensed and entered. 

London, Printed by and for W. Onley, and are 

to be sold by the Booksellers of Pye-corner 
and London-bridge. Dated at the British 
Museum 1680 at the earliest. 
II 8 . Everlasting shame, in the Scottish stall- 

A cottation of Roxburghe, III, 56, shows only 
variations too trivial to note. 



L ' Queen Elizabeth's Champion, or, Great Bri- 
tain's Glory,' etc. a Douce Ballads, III, fol. 80 b. 

b. Roxburghe, III, 416, in Ebsworth's Roxburghe 
Ballads, VI, 405. 

B. ' Earl of Essex ', Kmloch MSS, I, 113. 

A is printed also in Evans's Old Ballads, 
1777, II, 110, with slight variations from both 
Douce and Roxburghe. 

No printer's name is given in either copy 
of A. From the use of a peculiar ornament 
between the columns in a (and perhaps in b), 
such as occurs in ballads printed at Newcastle- 
upon-Tyne, by John White, the broadside may 
plausibly be attributed to him. White died 
in 1769. 

A. Queen Elizabeth fits out a powerful 
fleet to go in search of a vast navy under com- 
mand of the emperor of Germany. The fleets 
sight each other after a week or ten days. 
The emperor, amazed at the splendid show 
made by the English, asks his officers who 
this can be that is sailing toward him, and is 
told that it is the young Earl (third earl) of 
Essex, the queen's lieutenant. The emperor 
has heard enough of the father to make him 
fear a fight with the son, and proposes to tack 
and sail away ; but the son asks his father to 
put the ships into his hands and let him fight 
with Essex. The emperor consents with a 

VOL. T. 10 

warning; if the young Essex shall prove 
like his father, farewell to their honor. Young 
Essex takes the emperor's son prisoner ; the 
emperor offers as a ransom three keys of gold, 
one of which shall be the key of High Ger- 
many. Essex cares not for the three keys ; 
the emperor's son must go to England and 
be exhibited to the queen. The emperor 
declares that, if it must be so, his fifty good 
ships shall go as well for company. 

All this is, no doubt, as foolish as it is fic- 
titious, \>ut the ballad-maker' B independence, 
in fact unconsciousness, of history and corn- 
won sense, beginning with the title, in wiicli 
young Essex is made Queen Elizabeth's cham- 
pion, is amusing and not unpleasing. The 
ballad belongs undoubtedly to the eighteenth 
century, when High Germany had become 
familiar to the humble English. 

B. The traditional copy begins with a pro- 
logue of half a dozen stanzas in the form of 
a colloquy between Billy, who is to be of the 
expedition, and Nelly, his sweetheart. This 
prologue must be derived from some other 


ballad or song. Nelly reminds her lover of 
the fate of old Benbow, who lost at least one 
of his legs in a fight with a French fleet in 
1702, and died of the consequences, and of 
that of " proud Shawfield, that honoured 
knight," under which name is disguised Sir 

Cloudesley Shovell, " who came with his navy 
to the Spanish shore "in 1705, and whose 
ship went on the rocks off the Scilly Isles 
('Salem'), and sank with all on board, some 
eight hundred men, in 1707. We then make 
connection with the broadside. 

a. Donee Ballade, HI, foL 80 b. b Roxburghe, m, 416, 
in EtMworth's Roxbuighe Ballads, VI, 405 

1 COME, sound up your trumpets and beat up 

your drums, 
And let 's go to sea with a valiant good 


In search of a mighty vast navy of ships, 
The like has not been for these fifty long 

Baderer two, tandaro te, 
Baderer, tandorer, tan do re. 

2 The queen she provided a navy of ships, 

With sweet flying streamers, so glorious to 


Rich top and top-gallants, captains and lieu- 

Some forty, some fifty, brass-pieces and 

3 They had not saild past a week on the seas, 

Not passing a week and days two or three, 
But they were aware of the proud emperor, 
Both him and all his proud company. 

4 When he beheld our powerful fleet, 

Sailing along in their glory and pride, 
He was amazed at their valour and fame, 
Then to his warlike command[er]s he cry'd. 

5 These were the words of the old emperor : 

Fray who is this that is sailing to me ? 
If he be king that weareth a crown, 
Yet I am a better man than he. 

6 ' It is not a king, nor lord of a crown, 

Which now to the seas with his navy is come, 
But the young Earl of Essex, the Queen's 

Who fears no foes in Christendom.' 

7 'Oh! is that lord then come to the seas? 

Let us tack about and be steering away ; 
I have heard so much of his father before 
That I will not fight with young Essex to- 

8 O then bespoke the emperor's son, 

As they were tacking and steering away, 
1 Give me, royal father, this navy of s[h]ips, 
And I will go fight with Essex today.' 

9 * Take them with all my heart, loving son, 

Most of them are of a capital size ; 
But should he do as his father has done, 
Farewel thine honour and mine likewise.' 

10 With cannons hot and thundering shot, 

These two gallants fought on the main, 
And as it was young Essex's lot, 
The emperor's son by him was taen. 

11 ' Give me my son,' the emperor cry'd, 

'Who yon this day have taken from 


And I '11 give to the[e] three keys of gold, 
The one shall be of High Germany.' 

12 ' I care not for thy three keys of gold, 

Which thou hast profferd to set him 


But thy son he shall to England sail, 
And go before the queen with me.' 

13 'Then have I fifty good ships of the best, 

As good as ever were sent to the sea, 
And eer my son into England sail, 
They shall go all for good company/ 

14 They had not fought this famous battle, 

They had not fought it hours three, 

But some lost legs, and some lost arms, 

And some lay tumbling in the sea. 


15 Essex he got this battle likewise, 

Tho 't was the hotest that ever was seen ; 
Home he returnd with a wonderful prize, 
And brought the emperor's son to the queen. 

16 O then bespoke the prentices all, 

Living in London, both proper and tall, 
In a kind letter, sent straight to the queen, 
For Essex's sake they would fight all 

Kinloch MSB, 1, 113. From Mary Ban, Jane, 1827. 

1 * T is, old England, old England, I bid thee 

The drums and the trumpets command me 

f rae shore ; 

And you lusty fellows, both valiant and true, 
Will you venture with me where loud can- 
nons roar ? ' 

2 < O Billy, O Billy, talk not of the seas, 

But stay at home with me on the shore ; 
I '11 do my endeavour thy fancy to please, 
And there 's others to go where loud can- 
nons roar.' 

3 ' O Nelly, Nelly, I must to the seas, 

For there is no gold to be had upon shore ; 
There 's honour, and gold, and riches likewise, 
To the man that doth die where loud can- 
nons roar.' 

4 'Remember the winds, love, remember the 


Remember the dangers that are upon seas ; 
Remember there is neither coffin nor grave 

To the man that doth die where loud can- 
nons roar.' 

6 'Remember old Benbow, and think on his 


Remember the dangers he felt upon seas ; 
He lost both his legs by one shot of his foes ; 
He lost his sweet life, yet his honour 's the 

6 ' Remember proud Shawfield, that honoured 

Who came with his navy to the Spanish 


At the rock of Salem his life took a flight, 
And with him there died some hundreds 

7 * Our queen she has builded a navy of ships, 

And they are arrayed all right gloriously; 
With top and top-gallant, with captain, lieu- 

Some fifty, some sixty, brass pieces and 

8 ' Well, since you '11 go, may my blessing ad- 

And carry you safely from Flanders to 

And when you've conquered that tyrant in 

Then my blessing return you to old England 


9 They had not sailed one hour upon sea, 

Not one hour passing days two or three, 
Till up came the bold emperonr, 

The bold emperour of High Germanie. 

10 ' O who is this ? ' the bold emperonr cries, 

( Who is this that comes sailing to me ? 
I 'm sure he 's a knight, or a king of crown, 
Or I 'm sure I am a far better fellow than 

11 I am neither a knight, nor a king of a 

Bat here, with my navy, on board I am 


For I am Lord Essex, the Queen's lieutenant, 
Who never feard foe in all Christendom.' 

12 Out and spoke the bold einperonr's son, 

All as they were mounting and hyeing 


* father, lend me your navy of ships, 
And I '11 go fight with Lord Essex today/ 

13 ' O son, 1 11 lend thee my navy of ships, 

And* they are all of a capable size ; 
But if he be as good as his old father was, 
Adieu to your honour, and mine likewise.' 



14 they have fought on at a terrible rate, 

Until it drew nigh to the cool of the day, 
And as it fell in young Essex's lot, 
The bold emperour's son he 's taen prisoner 

15 ' O give me my son/ the bold emperour cried, 

' give me my son thou hast taken from 


And you shall have three keys of gold, 
And one of them opens High Germanic.' 

16 ' What value I thy three keys of gold, 

Or any proud offer thou canst give to me ? 
For up to old England thy son he must go, 
And stand before our queen's high majesty.' 

17 'T is I have fifteen ships of the best, 

And other fifteen distant on sea ; 

Since up to old England my son he must go, 
Then we '11 all go together for good compa- 

A. a. 

Queen Elizabeth's Champion, or, Great 
Britain's Glory, Being a victory obtained by 
the young Earl of Essex over the old em- 
peror of Germany by a fight at sea in which 
he took the emperor's son and brought him 
a prisoner to Queen Elizabeth. 
b omits Being after Glory and* before prisoner. 
a. Burden ran do re in second line after stanza 
1. tandato in first line after stanza 2. 
Rederer, after 7. Raderer two for Baderer 
in second line after 9. 

I 4 , years. 8 1 . Oh. 

I 2 , gallant good. I 4 , for this. 

4 4 . commanders. 5 a . Praying. 5 s . be a. 

14 a . hours but. 




A. ' The Seamen's Distress/ the second piece in The 
Glasgow Lasses Garland, British Museum, 11621. c. 
3 (68). " Newcastle, 1765?" 

B. a. ' The stormy winds do blow,' Chappell's Popu- 
lar Music of the Olden Time, p. 742. b. The same, 
p. 743. o. Notes and Queries, 6th Series, VU, 276. 

C. Communicated by Mr Chappell. Now printed in 
Old English Ditties, Oxenford and Macfarren, < The 
Mermaid,' I, 206. 

D. ' The Mermaid/ a. Long, Dictionary of the Isle of 
Wight Dialect, 1886, p. 42. b. Broadside, H. Such, 
177 Union St., Boro'. 

E. a. Motherwell's MS., p. 145. b. 'The Bonnie 
Mermaid/ Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. 
xxiii, No XXX, one stanza. 

F. ' Greenland,' Einloch MSS, VII, 245. 

THIS is the ballad referred to under 'Sir 
Patrick Spens,' II, 19. It is still common as 
a broadside. 

E a 6 has taken a burlesque turn. It is 
scarcely worth while to attempt to account 
for the vagaries of F, in which ' the kemp o 
the ship ' takes the place of the mermaid, and 
the kaim and glass are exchanged for the 
bottle and glass. The first stanza of F may 
not belong here, or possibly (but not probably) 

a voyage to Greenland may have been lost 
from the other copies. 

In B, C, D, the ship sails on Friday, against 
all good rules. 

* The Sailor's Caution,' the third piece in 
The Sailing Trade, Glasgow, Printed by J. 
and M. Robertson, Saltmarket, 1801, begins 
like A, has a stanza (the fifth) representing 
A 4, 5, and concludes thus, after a stanza (the 
sixth) resembling A 8 : 



The mermaid on the rook doth sit, 
With comb and glass in hand : 

' Cheer up, cheer up, bold mariners, 
You are not far from land. 

' So now cheer up, bold mariners, 
Or smother in the deep ; 

All this I do for a sailor's sake, 
Whilst losing of my sleep. 

' Here is a token, bold mariners, 

A token of good will, 
And if ever that you come this way, 

' Tie here you '11 find me still/ 

British Museum, 11621. b. 13 (15). 

The Glasgow Lames Garland, the second piece, British 
Museum, 11621. c. 3 (68). " Newcastle, 1765 < " 

1 Afl we lay musing in our beds, 

So well and so warm at ease, 
I thought upon those lodging-beds 
Poor seamen have at seas. 

2 Last Easter day, in the morning fair, 

We was not far from land, 
Where we spied a mermaid on the rock, 
With comb and glass in hand. 

3 The first came up the mate of our ship, 

With lead and line in hand, 
To sound and see how deep we was 
From any rock or sand. 

4 The next came up the boatswain of our ship, 

With courage stout and bold : 
1 Stand fast, stand fast, my brave lively lads, 
Stand fast, my brave hearts of gold ! ' 

5 Our gallant ship is gone to wreck, 

Which was so lately trimmd ; 
The raging seas has sprung a leak, 
And the salt water does run in. 

6 Our gold and silver, and all our cloths, 

And all that ever we had, 
We forced was to heave them overboard, 
Thinking our lives to save. 

7 In all, the number that was on board 

Was five hundred and sixty-four, 
And all that ever came alive on shore 
There was but poor ninety-five. 

8 The first bespoke the captain of our ship, 

And a well-spoke man was he ; 
' I have a wife in fair Plymouth town, 
And a widow I fear she must be.' 

9 The next bespoke the mate of our ship, 

And a well-bespoke man was he ; 
' I have a wife in fair Portsmouth, 
And a widow I fear she must be.' 

10 The next bespoke the boatswain of our ship, 

And a well-bespoke man was he ; 
' 1 have a wife in fair Exeter, 
And a widow I fear she must be/ 

11 The next bespoke the little cabbin-boy, 

And a well-bespoke boy was he ; 
' I am as sorry for my mother dear 
As you are for your wives all three. 

12 ( Last night, when the moon shin'd bright, 

My mother had sons five, 
But now she may look in the salt seas 
And find but one alive/ 

13 'Call a boat, call a boat, you little Plymouth 


Don't you hear how the trumpet[s] sound ? 
[For] the want of our boat our gallant ship is 

And the most of our merry men is drownd.' 

14 Whilst the raging seas do roar, 

And the lofty winds do blow, 
And we poor seamen do lie on the top, 
Whilst the landmen lies below. 




a. Chappell'g Popular Music of the Olden Time, p 742 
b. The same, p. 743, one stanza and the burden, contributed 
by Mr Charles Sloman, in 1840. c Notes and Queries, 6th 
Series, VII, 276, communicated from memory by Mr Thomas 
Bayne, Helensburgh, N. B., stanzas 1, 6 

1 ONE Friday morn when we set sail, 

Not very far from land, 
We there did espy a fair pretty maid 

With a comb and a glass in her hand, her 

hand, her hand. 

With a comb and a glass in her hand. 
While the raging seas did roar, 

And the stormy winds did blow, 
While we jolly sailor-boys were up into 

the top, 
And the land-lubbers lying down below, 

below, below, 
And the land-lubbers lying down below. 

2 Then up starts the captain of our gallant ship, 

And a brave young man was he : 
* I Ve a wife and a child in fair Bristol town, 
But a widow I fear she will be.' 
For the raging seas, etc. 

3 Then up starts the mate of our gallant ship, 

And a bold young man was he : 
( Oh ! I have a wife in fair Portsmouth town, 
But a widow I fear she will be/ 
For the raging seas, etc. 

4 Then up starts the cook of our gallant ship, 

And a gruff old soul was he : 
4 Oh ! I have a wife in fair Plymouth town, 
But a widow I fear she will be.' 

5 And then up spoke the little cabin-boy, 

And a pretty little boy was he ; 
* Oh ! I am more grievd for my daddy and my 

Than you for your wives all three.' 

6 Then three times round went our gallant 


And three times round went she ; 
For the want of a life-boat they all went 

And she sank to the bottom of the sea. 

Communicated by Mr W. Chappell, as noted down by 
him from the singing of men dressed as sailors, on Tower 
Hill. Subsequently printed, with a few variations, in Old 
English Ditties, Oxenford and Macfarren, I, 206 

1 ONE Friday morn as we 'd set sail, 
And our ship not far from land, 
We there did espy a fair mermaid, 
With a comb and a glass in her hand, her 

hand, her hand, 

With a comb and a glass in her hand. 
While the raging seas did roar, 

And the stormy winds did blow, 
And we jolly sailor-boys were up, up aloft, 
And the landsmen were lying down be- 
And the landlubbers all down below, 

below, below, 
And the landlubbers all down below. 

2 Then up spoke the captain of our gallant 


Who at once did our peril see ; 
I have married a wife in fair London town, 
And tonight she a widow will be.' 

3 And then up spoke the litel cabin-boy, 

And a fair-haired boy was he ; 
1 1 Ve a father and mother in fair Portsmouth 

And this night she will weep for me.' 

4 Now three times round goes our gallant 


And three times round went she ; 
For the want of a life -boat they all were 

As she went to the bottom of the sea. 



a. Long, A Dictionary of the Isle of Wight Dialect, Lon- 
don, 1886, p 142 b H Such, 177 Union St., Boro'. 

1 ' T WAS a Friday morning when we set sail, 

And our ship was not far from land, 
When there we spied a fair pretty maid, 
With a comb and a glass in her hand. 
Oh, the raging seas they did roar, 

And the stormy winds they did blow, 
While we poor sailor-boys were all up aloft, 
And the land-lubbers lying down below, 

below, below, 
And the land-lubbers lying down below. 

2 Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship, 

And a mariner good was he ; 
4 I have married a wife in fair London town, 
And this night a widow she will be/ 

3 Then up spoke the cabin-boy of our gallant 


And a brave little boy was he ; 
4 1 've a father and a mother in old Portsmouth 

And this night they will both weep for me.' 

4 Then up spoke a seaman of our gallant ship, 

And a well-spoken man was he ; 
'For want of a long-boat we shall all be 

And shall sink to the bottom of the sea. 

5 Then three times round went that gallant ship, 

And down like a stone sank she , 
The moon shone bright, and the stars gave 

their light, 
But they were all at the bottom of the sea. 


a. Motherwell's MS., p. 145 b Motberwell's Minstrelsy, 
Appendix, p xxiu, No XXX, the first stanza. 

1 UP and spoke the bonny mermaid, 

Wi the comb and the glass in her hand ; 
Says, Cheer up your hearts, my mariners all, 
You are not very far from the land. 
And the raging seas do foam, foam, 

And the stormy winds do blow, 
While we poor sailors must mount to the 

When the landsmen they lye low. 

2 Out and spoke the captain of our ship, 

And a fine little man was he ; 
4 O I Ve a wife in fair London town, 
And a widow this night she shall be.' 

3 Out and spoke the mate of our ship, 

And a tight little man was he ; 
* O I 've a wife in Dublin city, 

And a widow this night she shall be.' 

4 Out and spoke our second mate, 

And a clever little man was he ; 
4 Oh I have a wife in Greenock town, 
And a widow this night she shall be.' 

6 Out and spoke our little prentice boy, 

And a fine little boy was he ; 
4 Oh I am sorry for my mother,' he said, 
4 As you are for your wives all three.' 

6 Out and spoke the cook of our ship, 

And a rusty old dog was he ; 
Says, I am as sorry for my pats and my pans 
As you are for your wives all three. 

Kinloch MSB, VII, 245 From the recitation of a little 
boy from Glasgow, who sang it in Giove St , Edinburgh, 
July, 1826 

1 GREENLAND, Greenland, is a bonny, bonny 

Whare there 's neither grief nor flowr, 

Whare there 's neither grief nor tier to be seen, 
But hills and frost and snow 

2 Up starts the kemp o the ship, 

Wi a psalm-book in his hand : 
4 Swoom away, swoom away, my merry old 

For you '11 never see dry land.' 



3 Up starts the gancy cook, 

And a well gaucy cook was he ; 
' I wad na gie aw my pans and my kettles 
For aw the lords in the sea.' 

4 Up starts the kemp o the ship, 

Wi a bottle and a glass intil his hand ; 

'Swoom away, swoom away, my merry old 

For you '11 never see dry land. 1 

5 O the raging seas they row, row, row, 

The stormy winds do blow, 
As sune as he had gane up to the tap, 
As low. 

A. 6*. Qy, that ever we did have ? 

7 1 * 4 . Qy> And in all, there was but poor ninety- 

That ever came alive on shore. ? 
14 1 . Whilst we in the raging seas do blow. 
14*. And there lofty minds. 

B. b. 2 l . Then up spoke. 

2 M . I have sixty gallant seamen aboard of my 

But none half so gallant as he, as he, 

as he, 

But there 's none half so gallant as he. 
Burden : 

While the vivid lightnings flash, 

And the stormy winds do blow, 
While we poor seamen are up, up aloft, 
And the landsmen are all down below, 

below, below, 

And the landsmen are all down below. 
c. l a . And our ship not far. 
6. we all. 6 4 . And sank. 

C. 1*. Far., a fair pretty maid. 

In Old English Ditties, etc. (perhaps Oxen- 
ford's changes) : 

I 1 , when we set. I 8 , a fair pretty maid. 
2*. this night. 3 4 . they will. 
4 1 . Then three times round went. 
4 8 . they both went down. 4 4 . As she sunk to. 
Burden : 

4. And the land-lubbers lying down below, be- 

low, below. 

5. And the landsmen were all down below. 

6. Wanting. 

D. b. 1 On Friday morning as we set sail, 

It was not far from land, 
there I espy'd a fair pretty girl, 

With the comb and the glass in her hand. 
O the stormy winds they did blow, 

And the raging seas did roar, 
While we poor sailors go up to the top, 
And the land-lubbers lie down below. 

2 Then up spoke a boy of our gallant ship, 

And a well-spoken boy was he ; 
* I 've a father and mother in fair Ports- 
mouth town, 
And this night they will weep for me/ 

3 Then up spoke a man of our gallant ship, 

And a well-spoken man was he ; 
' I have married a wife in fair London 

And this night a widow she shall be.' 

4 Then up spoke the captain of our gallant 


And a valiant man was he ; 
' For want of a long-boat we shall all be 

So she sunk to the bottom of the sea. 

5 The moon shone bright, and the stars gave 


And my mother is looking for me ; 
She might look, she might weep, with 

watery eyes, 
She might look to the bottom of the sea. 

A broadside by Birt, otherwise like Such's, 
adds : 

Three times round went our gallant ship, 
And three times round went she ; 

Three times round went our gallant ship, 
Then she sunk to the bottom of the sea. 

British Museum, 11621. k. 5 (167). 

E. b. 1. up and spak the bonnie mermaid, 

Wi the glass and the kaim in her hand; 
4 Reek about, reek about, ye manners all, 
For ye're not very far from the land/ 


i she. 




A. < My lady ye shall be,' " Scotch Ballads, Materials C. ' The Bonnie Lass o the Hie Toun End.' Communi- 
for Border Minstrelsy/' Thomas Wilkie's MS., p. 74, cated by Mr David Louden, of Morham, Haddington, 
Abbotsford. 1873. 

B. John Struthers, The British Minstrel, 1821 , I, xxv. D. ' The Flowers of Edinburgh/ Gibb MS., No 14, p. 57. 

THIS ballad, which Motherwell pronounces 
to be " of some antiquity and of considerable 
popularity," is of the same pernicious tenor 
as * The Broom o Cowdenknows,' with the 
aggravation of treachery. The de*nofiment 
is similar in ' The Dainty Downby,' Herd's 
MSS, I, 45, printed in his Scottish Songs, 

1776, II, 232, 'The Laird o the Dainty 
Downby,' Kinloch MSS, V, 145, and in * The 
Laird o Keltic,' Kinloch MSS, I, 863, * The 
Young Laird o Keltie,' III, 107, Motherwell 
MS., p. 21, both of one pattern, and that 
quite trashy. 

" Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy," No 
72, Thomas Wilkie's MS., 1813-15, p 74, Abbotsford ; 
taken down from the recitation of a female friend, who 
sang it to a lively air 

1 IT fell about the Martinmas, 

When the gentlemen were drinking there 


And a' the discourse that they had 
Was about the ladies they gude fine. 

2 It 's up an spake a tall young man, 

The tallest o the companie ; 
4 The bonniest lass that I ken off 
She lives into the hee toun hee. 

8 * O I would give a guinea of gold, 

A guinea and a pint of wine, 
I would give it to the hostler's wife, 
For to wile that bonny lassie in/ 

4 The hostler's wife gaed down the stair, 

And she 's looked hersell round near by, 

And there she spied the bonny handsom girl, 

Coming walking down the hee town high. 

5 ' Come in, come in, my bonny handsom girl, 

Come speak one word with me ; 
Come taste a little of our wine, 
For it 's new come out of Italie.' 

6 So willillie she wil'd her up, 

And so willillie she wil'd her in, 
And so cunningly she 's locked the door, 
And she 's comd down the stair again. 

7 One of them took her by the milk-white 


And he 's laid her body on the ground, 
And aye she sightd, and said, Alass, 
'T is a sin to do me wrong ! 

8 ' But since ye hae done sae muckle to me, 

And brought me to so muckle shame, 
O wad ye be so kind to me 
As to tell to me your name.' 

9 ' O if I tell to you my name, 

It 's a thing I never did to none ; 
Bui I will tell to the, my dear ; 
I am the Earl of Beaton's son.' 



10 When two years were past and gone, 

This gentleman came walking by, 
And there he spied the bonny handsome girl, 
Coming walking down the hie town high. 

11 'To whom belongs that pretty child, 

That blinks with its pretty eye ? ' 
* His father 's from home and has left me alone, 
And I have been at the fold milking my ky.' 

12 ' You lie, you lie, my bonny handsome girl, 

So loudlie I hear you lie ; 
do not you mind that happie day 

When ye was drinking the wine wi me ? ' 

13 He 's lighted off his milk-white steed, 

He 's kissd her both cheeck and chin ; 
He 's made a' the servants in Beaton castle 
To welcome this fair lady in. 


Stratheri's British Minstrel, I, XXY., from recitation. 

1 IT fell about the Martinmas time, 

When the nobles were drinking wine, 
And the matter of tfreir discourse it was, 
< the ladies they go fine :' 

2 Up then spake a brave gentleman, 

The best in the companie ; 
'The bonniest lass that eer I saw, 
She dwells in the hie town hie. 

3 ' I wad give a guinea of red gold, 

Sae wad I a pint of wine, 
To onie of the hostler-wives 
That wad wyle to me the bonnie lassie in.' 

4 Up then spake the hostler's wife, 

And an ill death may she die 1 
' An ye '11 gie me a guinea of gold, 
I will wyle the bonnie lassie in to thee.' 

5 The hostler's wife stood on the stair-head, 

To see what she could see, 
And there she saw this fair creature, 
Coming down frae the hie town hie. 

6 ' Come in, come in, my bonnie, bonnie lass, 

Come in and speak with me ; 
Come in and drink a glass of wine, 
That 's new come aff the raging sea.' 

7 * My father 's out upon the plain, 

And I am waiting his incoming ; 
And I 'm a girl so neat and trim 

That I 'm afraid of your merry men.* 

8 ' My merry men are all gone out, 

And they will not be in till nine, 
And, if ye would my favour win, 
Come in and drink a glass of wine.' 

Sae cunningly she wyld her in, 

And sae cunningly she led her round, 
Till she wyld her to the room where he was, 
And she locked the door the bonnie lass 

10 First he kissd her cherry cheeks, 

And than he kissd her cherry chin, 
And than he kissd her ruby lips, 

Saying, Indeed ye 're a weel-f aurd thing. 

11 ' since ye 've got your will o me, 

And brought me unto public shame, 
I pray, "kind sir, ye '11 marry me, 
Or that ye '11 tell me what 's your name.' 

12 ( If I tell my name to you, bonnie lassie, 

It 's mair than ever I telld ane ; 
But I will tell to you, bonnie lassie ; 
I am an earl's second son. 

13 * I am an earl's second son, 

My father has more children than me ; 
My eldest brother he heirs the land, 
And my father he sent me to the sea/ 

14 He put his hand into his pocket, 

And he gave her sixty guineas and three, 
Saying, Fare thee weel, my lovely young 

Ye '11 never get mair of me. 

15 As she went down through Edinburgh streets, 

The bonnie bells as they did ring, 
Farewell, f areweel, my bonnie, bonnie lassie, 
Ye 've got the clod that winna cling.' 


16 He hadna been ae week at the sea, 

Not a week but only five, 
Till the king made him a captain sae brave, 
And he made the bonnie lassie his wife. 



Communicated, February, 1873, bj Mr David Louden, of 
Morham, Haddmgton, as recited by Mrs Richard Dodds, 
Morham, Loan head, " aged over seventy " 

1 IN Edinburgh, on a summer evening, 

Our gentlemen sat drinking wine, 
And every one to the windpw went, 
To view the ladies, they went so fine. 

2 They drank the wine, and they spilt the 


So merrily as the reel went round, 
And a' the healths that was drucken there 
Was to the bonnie lass o the hie toun end. 

3 Up then spoke a young squire's son, 

And as he spoke it all alone ; 
' Oh, I would give a guinea of gold, 

And so would I a pint of wine, 
And I would make them their licence free 

That would welcome this bonnie lassie in.' 

4 The ostler's wife, on hearin this, 

So nimbly down the stairs she ran, 
And the first toun's-body that she met 
Was the bonnie lass o the hie toun end. 

5 ' Mistress, ye maun gang wi me 

And get a cup o oor claret wine ; 
It 's new come oer the ragin sea, 
Awat it is baith gude and fine.' 

6 ' To gang wi you I daurna stay, 

My mither 's wearyin for me in ; 

I am so beautiful and fine 

I am a prey to all young men/ 

7 Wi sattin slippers on her feet, 

So nimbly up the stair she ran, 
And wha so ready as this young squire 
To welcome the bonny lassie in. 

8 He ['s] taen her by the milk-white hand, 

He 's gently led her through the room, 
And aye she sighed, and aye she said, 
It would be a pity to do me wrong. 

9 * Now, since you 've taken your will o me, 

I pray, kind sir, tell me your name ; ' 
' Oh yes, my dear, indeed,' he said 
* But it 's more than I ever did to one. 

10 * I am a squire and a squire's son, 

My faither has fifty ploughs o land, 
And I 'm a man in the militrie, 
And I must away and rank up my men. 

11 ' And Jamie Lumsdaine is my name, 

From the North Countrie, love, I really came.' 

12 About a twelvemonth after that, 

He sent a letter owre the main, 
And muckle writin was therein, 

To the bonnie lass o the hie toun end. 

13 About a twelvemonth after that, 

He himsel cam owre the main ; 
He made her Duchess o Douglas Dale, 
And to him she 's had a fine young son. 

Gibb MS., No 14, p. 57 From the recitation of Eppie 
Fraser, daughter of a tramp, and unable to read, about 1840 

1 ALL the soldiers in Edinburgh town 

Were sitting drinking at the wine, 
An all the toasts that were among them 
Was a health to the lassie that goes sae fine. 

2 Up then spake an officier, 

The bravest in the company ; 
' To every one I will give a guinea, 

A guinea and a pint of wine, 
To the ostler's wife I wald double it a', 

If she 'd entice that young lassie in.' 

3 The old wife tripped down the stair, 

And aye she said, ' A good morrow, dame ! ' 
And aye she said, an the maid replied, 
* What is your will wi me, madam ? ' 

4 * It 's not to do you any harm, 

Or yet your body any ill, 
But, if you would my favour gain, 
Come up an taste one glass of wine.' 

5 ' My father stands on the stair-head, 

Just lookin for me to come in ; 
I am so proper and so tall 

I 'm much afraid of your merry men.' 



6 'My merry men, they are all gone out. 

An they will not be in till dine; 
So, if yon would my favour gain, 
Come up an taste a glass of wine.' 

7 Hie fair maid tripped up the stair, 

The old wife bolted the door behind; 
He 's tane her in his arms twa, 
Says, but ye are a bonny thing ! 

8 Twenty times he kissed her cheek, 

An twenty times her bonny chin, 
An twenty times her ruby lips : 
' but ye are a bonny thing ! ' 

9 * Noo, since ye Ve got your wills o me, 
What is your name, I pray you tell ; 

where yon dwell.' 


* My eldest brother, he heirs the land ; 
I was forced to be a highwayman, 
Or else a soldier, as I am. 1 

11 An aye the lassie she sat an grat, 

An aye thae words spak them atween, 
An aye the lassie she sat an grat, 
And cursed the auld wife that brocht her in. 

12 They had na been in Edinburgh 

A month, a month but only nine, 

When they haye got the royal mmMjmn 
For to march to Aberdeen. 

13 An aye the lassie she sat an grat, 

An aye thae words spak them atween, 
An aye the lassie she sat an grat, 
And cursed the auld wife that brocht her in, 

14 They had na been in Aberdeen 

A month, a month but only one, 
When he got on the captain's coat, 
An made her lady o his land. 

15 An aye the lassie she sat an sang, 

An aye thae words spak them atween, 
An aye the lassie she sat an sang, 
An hewed the auld wife that brocht her in. 

A. 1*. 0y,gade? 

3 1 . Written and af pint gold, with pint struck 

out (anticipation of the next line). 
6*. now come. 

B. Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. xci, supplies, from 

a recited version, after 15 : 
Aye she sat, and aye she grat, 

And kaimd her yellow hair, 
And aye she cursd the hostler's wife, 

That wysit her in at the door. 
And after 16 : 
Aye she sat, and aye she sang, 

And kaimd her yellow hair, 
And aye she blessd the hostler's wife, 

That wysit her in at the door. 
Compare D 13, 15. 


' Childe Owlet,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 27 ; Motherwell's MS., p. 572. 

LADY EBSKINE invites Child Owlet to be 
her paramour. Child Owlet revolts at the 
suggestion ; he ifl sister's son to Lord Ronald. 
The lady outs herself with a penknife suffi- 
ciently to draw blood ; Lord Ronald hears 
her moaning, comes in, and asks what blood 
this is ; his wife gives him to understand that 

Child Owlet has offered her violence. A 
council is held upon the case, and the youth 
is condemned to be torn by four horses* 
There was not a twig or a rush on the moor 
that was not dropping with his blood. 

The chain of gold in the first stanza and 
the penknife below the bed in the fourth have 



a false ring, and the story is of the tritest. 
The ballad seems at best to be a late one, 
and is perhaps mere imitation, but, for an 

imitation, the last two stanzas are unusually 

1 LADY EKSKINE sits in her chamber, 

Sewing at her silken seam, 
A chain of gold for Childe Owlet, 
As he goes oat and in. 

2 Bat it fell ance upon a day 

She unto him did say, 
Te must cuckold Lord Ronald, 
For a* his lands and ley. 

3 ' cease ! forbid, madam/ he says, 

' That this shoud eer be done ! 
How would I cuckold Lord Ronald, 
And me his sister's son ? ' 

4 Then she 's ta'en out a little penknife, 

That lay below her bed, 
Put it below her green stay's cord, 
Which made her body bleed. 

5 Then in it came him Lord Ronald, 

Hearing his lady's moan ; 
' What blood is this, my dear/ he says, 
' That sparks on the fire-stone ? ' 

6 ' Toung Childe Owlet, your sister's son, 

Is now gane frae my bower ; 
If I hadna been a good woman, 
I'd been Childe Owlet's whore.' 

7 Then he has taen him Childe Owlet, 

Laid him in prison strong, 
And all his men a council held 
How they woud work him wrong. 

8 Some said they woud Childe Owlet hang, 

Some said they woud him born ; 
Some said they woud have Childe Owlet 
Between wild horses torn. 

9 ' There are horses in your stables stand 

Can run right speedilie, 
And ye will to your stable go, 
And wile out four for me.' 

10 They put a foal to ilka foot, 

And ane to ilka hand, 
And sent them down to Darling muir, 
As fast as they coud gang. 

11 There was not a kow in Darling muir, 

Nor ae piece o a rind, 
But drappit o Childe Owlet's blude 
And pieces o his skin. 

12 There was not a kow in Darling muir, 

Nor ae piece o a rash, 
Bat drappit o Childe Owlet's blude 
And pieces o his flesh. 


a. Douce Ballads, II, fol. 254 b ; Roxborghe Ballads, II, 499, Ebsworth, VI, 635. b. Douce Ballads, H, 245 b. 

ALSO, Crawford Ballads, No 1331, Euing, 
384. All the five : Printed for P. Brooksby, 
at the Golden-Ball in West-Smithfield, neer 
the Hospital-gate. (1672-95.) 

A maid entreats her lover, William, to 
marry her or put an end to her life. He un- 

feelingly bids her go to the wood and live on 
hips and haws. She leads this life for three 
months; then, exhausted with the hardship, 
goes to her sister's house and begs an alms of 
food. The sister (who is her rival, at. 18) 
orders her men to hunt away the wild doe, 



and they drive her back to the forest, where 
she lies down and dies. Sweet William comes, 
stands at her head and her feet, kisses her, 
gives vent to his repentance and admiration 
in intense and elaborate expressions, then lies 
down by her side and dies. 
The first eleven stanzas are in a fairly pop- 

ular tone. It will be observed that the first 
and third verses rhyme in 12-24, but not in 
1-11. The whole may be one man's work, 
who may have thought that an elegy should 
properly be more artificial, both in form and 
in style, than a story, but I incline to think 
that the lament is a later attachment. 

1 * WHEN will you many me, William, 

And make me your wedded wife ? 
Or take you your keen bright sword 
And rid me out of my life.' 

2 ' Say no more BO then, lady, 

Say you no more then so, 
For you shall into the wild forrest, 
And amongst the buck and doe. 

3 ' Where thou shalt eat of the hips and haws, 

And tbe roots that are so sweet, 
And thou shalt drink of the cold water, 
That runs underneath [thy] feet.' 

4 Now she had not been in the wild forrest 

Passing three months and a day 
But with hunger and cold she had her fill, 
Till she was quite worn away. 

5 At last she saw a fair tyl'd-house, 

And there she swore by the rood 
That she would to that fair tyl'd-house, 
There for to get her some food. 

6 But when she came unto the gates, 

Aloud, aloud she cry'd, 
An alms, an alms, my own sister ! 
I ask you for no pride. 

7 Her sister calld up her merry men all, 

By one, by two, and by three, 
And bid them hunt away that wild doe, 
As far as ere they could see. 

8 They hunted her ore hill and dale, 

And they hunted her so sore 
That they hunted her into the forrest, 
Where her sorrows grew more and more. 

9 She laid a stone all at her head, 

And another all at her feet, 

And down she lay between these two, 
TiJl death had Md her asleep. 

10 When sweet Will came and stood at her head, 

And likewise stood at her feet, 
A thousand times he kist he[r] cold lips, 
Her body being fast asleep. 

11 Tea, seaven times he stood at her feet, 

And seaven times at her head, 
A thousand times he shook her hand, 
Although her body was dead. 

12 * Ah wretched me ! ' he loudly cry'd, 

< What is it that I have done? 
O woud to the powers above I 'de dy'd, 
When thus I left her alone 1 

13 < Come, come, you gentle red-breast now, 

And prepare for us a tomb, 
Whilst unto cruel Death I bow, 
And sing like a swan my doom. 

14 * Why could I ever cruel be 

Unto so fair a creature? 
Alas I she dy'd for love of me, 
The loveliest she in nature 1 

15 ' For me she left her home so fair 

To wander in this wild grove, 
And there with sighs and pensive care 
She ended her life for love. 

16 O constancy, in her thou *rt lost I 

Now let women boast no more ; 

She 'B fled unto the Elizium coast, 

And with her carryd the store. 

17 ' O break, my heart, with sorrow filld, 

Come, swell, yon strong tides of grief I 
Yon that my dear love have killd, 
Come, yield in death to me relief. 

18 ' Cruel her sister, was 't for me 

That to her she was unkind? 



Her husband I will never be, 
But with this my love be joynd. 

19 Grim Death shall tye the marriage-bandi, 

Which jealousie shan't divide ; 
Together shall tye our cold hands, 
Whilst here we lye side by side. 

20 ' Witness, ye groves, and ohrystial streams, 

How faithless I late have been, 
But do repent with dying leaves 
Of that my ungrateful sin ; 

91 ' And wish a thousand times that I 
Had been but to her more kind, 
And not have let a virgin dye 
Whose equal there 's none can find. 

22 ' Now heaps of sorrow press my soul ; 

Now, now 'tis she takes her way ; 
I come, my love, without controule, 
Nor from thee will longer stay.' 

23 With that he fetchd a heavy groan 

Which rent his tender breast, 
And then by her he laid him down, 
When as death did give him rest 

24 Whilst mournful birds, with ieavy boughs, 

To them a kind burial gave, 
And warbled out their love-sick rows, 
Whilst they both slept in their grave. 

The West-Country Damosels Complaint, 


The Faithful Lovers Last FareweL 
Being the relation of a young maid who pined 
herself to death for the love of a young man, 
who, after he had notice of it, dyed likewise 
for grief. 

Careless young men, by this a warning take 
How you kind virgins, when they love, forsake $ 
Least the same fate oretake you, and you dye 
For breach of vows and infidelity. 
Be kind, but swear not more then what you mean, 
Least comick jests become a trajeck scean. 

To the tune of Johnny Armstrong. 

a. 20*. leaves (so in all) seems doubtful, but I 

can conjecture nothing better, gleams is 
just possible. 

b. 2 1 . thou shalt unto. 3 4 . runs beneath thy. 
11*. times stood. 20*. that wanting. 

22*. will no longer. 



A. Elisabeth Cochrane's MS., p. 126. 

B. < Jock o Hazelgreen/ Kinloch MSS, VII, 135 ; Kin- 
loch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 206. 

C. ' John o Hazelgreen,' Kinloch MSS, I, 819. 

D. a. John o Hazeigreen,* Buchan's Ballads of the 
North of Scotland, II, 258. b. ' Jock of Hazelgreen,' 
Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 819. 

B. a. Fragmentary verses obtained by Mr Pringle, 
Kinloch MSS, I, 821. b. Kinloch MSS, VII, 2, one 

A IB found, with the doubtless accidental 
variation of three words, in a folio volume 
at Abbotsford labelled Miscellanies, article 
43, having been transcribed by C. K. Sharpe 
for Sir W. Scott " from a4to MS., in a female 
hand, written probably about one hundred 
years ago, sold at one Inglis's roup at the 

West Port, Edinburgh, now in the possession 
of David Laing" (that is, Elizabeth Coch- 
rane's MS.). D b was compounded from D a 
and B, " omitting/' says Chambers, " many of 
the coarser stanzas of both, and improving a 
few by collation with a third version which I 
took down from recitation, and another which 



has been shown to me in manuscript by Mr 
Kinlocb " (C). D b is, after all, mainly D a 
with omissions ; the improvements from the 
recited copy (or the variations from Bochan 
and Kinloch) are not remarkable in amount 
or quality. E is given on Kinloch's authority. 
Alexander Campbell, when on a tour on the 
borders of Scotland to collect Scottish airs, is 
said to have received the first stanza from Mr 
Thomas Pringle, who derived it from his 
mother's singing. (Chappell, Popular Music, 
p. 575.) Upon this traditional stanza was 
built Scott's 4 Jock of Hazeldean,' first printed 
in Campbell's Albyn's Anthology, 1, 18, 1816. 
A. A gentleman overhears a damsel mak- 
ing a moan for Sir John of Hazelgreen. After 
some compliment on his part, and some slight 
information on hers, he tells her that Hazel- 
green is married; then there is nothing for 
her to do, she says, but to hold her peace and 
die for him. The gentleman proposes that 
she shall let Hazelgreen go, marry his eldest 
son, and be made a gay lady ; she is too mean 
a maid for that, and, anyway, had rather 
die for the object of her affection. Still she 

allows the gentleman to take her up behind 
him on his horse, and to buy clothes for her 
at Biggar, though all the time dropping tears 
for Hazelgreen. After the shopping they 
mount again, and at last they come to the 
gentleman's place, when the son runs out 
to welcome his father. The son is young 
Hazelgreen, who takes the maid in his arms 
and kisses off the still-falling tears. The 
father declares that the two shall be married 
the next day, and the young man have the 
family lands. 

The other versions have the same story, 
but the clothes are bought at Edinburgh, and 
the Hazelgreen estate seems to be in the 

In a preface to C, Kinloch, following either 
D 5 or some foolish popular gloss, remarks 
that the lady is presumed to have seen young 
Hazelgreen only in a dream, which left so 
deep an impression on her mind as to cause 
her to fall in love with his image. To im- 
prove upon this, D 15 makes the young man 
also to have seen the maid in a dream. 

Elizabeth Cochrane'a MS., p 126. 

1 INTO a sweet May morning, 

As the san clearly shone, 
I heard a propper damsell 

Making a heavy moan ; 
Making a heavy moan, 

I marvelled what she did mean, 
And it was for a gentleman, 

Sir John of Hasillgreen. 

2 ' What aileth thee now, bony maid, 

To mourn so sore into the tide ? 
O happy were the man/ he saves, 

4 That had thee to his bride, 
To ly down by his side ; 

Then he were not to mean ; ' 
Bat still she let the tears down fall 

For pleasant Hasilgreen. 

3 ' Oh what for a man is Hasillgreen ? 

Sweet heart, pray tell to me.' 
( He is a propper gentleman, 

Dwels in the South Countrie ; 
With shoulders broad and arms long, 

And comely to be seen ; 
His hairs are like the threeds of gold, 

My pleasant Hasilgreen.' 

4 ' Now Hasilgreen is married, 

Let all this talking be.' 
' If Hasilgreen be married, 

This day then woe to me ; 
For I may sigh and sob no more, 

But close my weeping een, 
And hold my peace and cry no more, 

But dy for Hasilgreen. 1 

5 ' Will you let Haailgreen alone, 

And go along with me ? 
1 11 many you on my eldest son, 
Make you a gay lady. 1 



'Make me a gay lady ? ' she sayes, 

' I am a maid too mean ; 
I '11 rather stay at home/ she cries, 

'And dy for Hasilgreen.' 

6 He takes this pretty maid him behind 

And fast he spurred the horse, 
And they 're away to Bigger toon. 

Then in to Biggar Cross. 
Their lodging was far sought, 

And so was it foreseen ; 
Bat still she let the tears doun fall 

For pleasant Hasillgreen. 

7 He 's ta'en this pretty maid by the hand, 

And he is doun the toun ; 
He bought for her a pettycoat, 

Yea, and a trailing goun ; 
A silken kell ntt for her head, 

Laid oer with silver sheen ; 
But still she let the tears doun fall 

For pleasant Hasilgreen. 

8 He 's taen this bony mey him behind, 

And he is to the Place, 

Where there was mirth and merryness, 

And ladyes fair of face ; 
And ladyes fair of face, 

Right seemly to be seen, 
But still she let the tears doun fall 

For pleasant Hasilgreen. 

9 Young Hasilgreen ran hastilie 

To welcome his father dear ; 
He 's ta'en that pretty maid in his arms, 

And kist off her falling tear : 
* O bony mey, now for thy sake 

I would be rent and rien ; 
I would give all my father's lands 

To have thee in Hasilgreen.' 

10 ' hold your tongue now, son,' he sayes, 

' Let no more talking be ; 
This maid has come right far from home 

This day to visit thee. 
This day should been your wedding-day, 

It shall be thy bridall-een, 
And thou 's get all thy father's lands, 

And dwell in Hasillgreen.' 

Kinloch's MSB, VII, 135 ; from the recitation of Jenny 
Watson, Lanark, 24 April, 1826 

1 IT was on a morning early, 

Before day-licht did appear, 
I heard a pretty damsel 

Making a heavy bier ; 
Making a heavy bier, 

I wonderd what she did mean ; 
But ay the tears they rappit doun, 

Crying, O Jock o Hazelgreen ! 

2 ' O whare is this Hazelgreen, maid ? 

That I may him see.' 
' He is a ticht and a proper man, 

Lives in the South Cuntree. 
His shoulders broad, his arms lang, 

he 's comely to be seen I ' 
But ay the tears they drappit doun 

For Jock o Hazelgreen. 

3 * Will ye gang wi me, fair maid ? 

And 1 11 marry ye on my son,' 

' Afore I 'd go along wi you, 
To be married on your son, 

I 'd rather choose to stay at hame, 
And die for Hazelgreen.' 

4 But he has tane her up behind, 

And spurred on his horse, 
Till ance be cam to Embro toon, 

And lichted at the corse. 
He bought to her a petticoat, 

Besides a handsome goun ; 
He tied a silver belt about her waist, 

Worth thrice three hunder pnnd. 

5 And whan he cam to Hazelyetts, 

He lichted doun therein ; 
Monie war the brave ladies there, 

Monie ane to be seen. 
She lichted doun amang them aw. 

She seemed to be the queen ; 
But ay the tears they rappit doun 

For Jock o Hazelgreen. 

VOL. v. 




6 Young Hazelgreen took her by the hand 

And led her out and in : 
Said, Bonnie lady, for your sake, 

I could be baith rent and rien ; 
I wad gie aw my lands and rents, 

Tho I had kingdoms three, 
If I could hae the great pleasure 

To enjoy thy fair bodie. 

7 'No more of this/ his father said, 

' Of your mourning let abee ; 
I brought the damsel far f rae hame, 

She 's thrice as wae for thee. 
The morn is your bridal-day, 

The nioht is your bridal-een, 
And I '11 gie you aw my lands and rents, 

My pleasing son, Hazelgreen.' 

Klnloch MSB, I, 319. 

1 As I gaed out in a May morning, 

Afore that I could see, 
And there I heard a pretty fair may 

Making sweet melodie. 
She was making sic melodie, 

I wonderd what she could mean ; 
But ay she sang and sang about 

Sweet John o Hazelgreen. 

2 ' what na man is Hazelgreen ? 

Fair may, pray tell to me. 1 
4 He is a stout and a tall young man 

As in a 1 the South Countrie. 
He is a stout and a tall young man, 

And comely to be seen ; 
But still 1 maun weep and wail 

For John o Hazelgreen.' 

8 * Hold your tongue, fair maid,' he says, 

' And let your weeping alane ; 
1 11 marry you to my eldest son, 
And you shall be ca'd my dame.' 

4 He has tane her on ahint him, 

And fast he spurred the steed ; 
For Edinbro town he there was bound, 
Where they soon came wi speed. 

7 He 's tane her to the Luckenbooths, 

Coft her a braw new gown, 

A handsome feather for her hat, 

And a pair o silken shoon. 

8 He has tane the fair may up again, 

And fast awa rode he ; 
For Hazelgreen now he was bound, 
Her lodging there to be. 

9 She jumped aff frae ahint him, 

As fair as any queen ; 

< Come down, come down, Lord John,' he says, 
* And welcome your lady hame. 

10 ' It is the tall and comely youth, 

Sweet John o Hazelgreen ; 
If we canna see it bridal-day, 
It shall be bridal-een.' 

a. Bnchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, H, S58. 
b. Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 319. 

1 As I went forth to take the air 

Jtitill an evening clear, 
And there I spied a lady fair, 

Making a heavy bier ; 
Making a heavy bier, I say, 

But and a piteous meen, 
And aye she sighd, and said, Alas, 

For John o Hazelgreen I 

2 The sun was sinking in the west, 

The stars were shining clear, 
When thro the thickets o the wood, 

A gentleman did appear. 
Says, Who has done you the wrong, fair maid, 

And left you here alane ? 
Or who has kissd your lovely lips, 

That ye ca Hazelgreen ? 

8 4 Hold your tongue, kind sir,' she said, 

4 And do not banter so ; 
How will ye add affliction 
Unto a lover's woe? 



For none 's done me the wrong/ she said, 

" Nor left me here alane ; 
Nor none has kissd my lovely lips, 

That I ca Hazelgreen.' 

4 'Why weep ye by the tide, lady? 

Why weep ye by the tide ? 
How blythe and happy might he be 

Gets you to be his bride ! 
Gets you to be his bride, fair maid, 

And him I'll no bemean ; 
But when I take my words again, 

Whom call ye Hazelgreen ? 

5 * What like a man was Hazelgreen ? 

Will ye show him to me ^ ' 
' He is a comely, proper youth 

I in my sleep did see ; 
Wi arms tall, and fingers small, 

He's comely to be seen ; ' 
And aye she loot the tears down fall 

For John o Hazelgreen. 

6 ' If ye'll forsake young Hazelgreen, 

And go along with me, 
I '11 wed you to my eldest son, 

Make you a lady free/ 
4 It's for to wed your eldest son 

I am a maid oer mean ; 
I'll rather stay at home/ she says 

* And die for Hazelgreen.' 

7 * If ye'll forsake young Hazelgreen, 

And go along with me, 
I'll wed you to my second son, 

And your weight o gowd I'll gie/ 
' It's for to wed your second son 

I am a maid oer mean ; 
I'll rather stay at home,' she says, 

* And die for Hazelgreen.* 

8 Then he's taen out a siller comb, 

Combd down her yellow hair ; 
And looked in a diamond bright, 

To see if she were fair. 
* My girl, ye do all maids surpass 

That ever I have seen ; 
Cheer up your heart, my lovely lass, 

And hate young Hazelgreen/ 

9 ' Young Hazelgreen he is my love, 

And ever mair shall be ; 
I'll nac forsake young Hazelgreen 
For a* the gowd ye'll gie/ 

But aye she sighd, and said, Alas ! 

And made a piteous meen, 
And aye she loot the tears down fa 

For John o Hazelgreen. 

10 He looked high, and lighted low, 

Set her upon his horse ; 
And they rode on to Edinburgh, 

To Edinburgh's own cross. 
And when she in that city was, 

She lookd like ony queen : 
1 'Tis a pity such a lovely lass 

Shoud love young Hazelgreen/ 

11 'Young Hazelgreen, he is my love, 

And ever mair shall be ; 
I'll nae forsake young Hazelgreen 

For a' the gowd ye'll gie/ 
And aye she sighd, and said, Alas ' 

And made a piteous meen, 
And aye she loot the tears down fa 

For John o Hazelgreen. 

12 * Now hold your tongue, my well-fard maid, 

Lat a' your mourning be, 
And a' endeavours I shall try 

To bring that youth to thee, 
If ye'll tell me where your love stays, 

His stile and proper name/ 
' He's laird o Taperbank/ she says, 

' His stile, Young Hazelgreen/ 

13 Then he has coft for that lady 

A fine silk riding-gown, 
Likewise he coft for that lady 

A steed, and set her on ; 
Wi menji feathers in her hat, 

Silk stockings and siller sheen, 
And they are on to Taperbank, 

Seeking young Hazelgreen. 

14 They nimbly rode along the way," 

And gently spurrd their horse, 
Till they rode on to Hazelgreen, 

To Hazelgreen's own close. 
Then forth he came, young Hazelgreen, 

To welcome his father free : 
'You're welcome here, my father dear, 

And a' your companie/ 

15 But when he lookd oer his shoulder, 

A light laugh then gae he ; 
Says, If I getna this lady, 
It's for her I must die. 



I most confess this is the maid 

I ance saw in a dream, 
A walking thro a pleasant shade, 

As fair's a cypress queen. 

16 ' Now hold your tongue, young Hazelgreen, 

Lat a* your folly be ; 
If ye be wae for that lady, 

She's thrice as wae for thee. 
She's thrice as wae for thee, my son, 
As bitter doth complain ; 

Well is she worthy o the rigs 
That lie on Hazelgreen.' 

17 He's taen her in his arms twa, 

Led her thro bower and ha : 
' Cheer up your heart, my dearest dear, 

Ye're flower out-oer them a'. 
This night shall be our wedding-eon, 

The morn we'll say, Amen ; 
Ye'se never mair hoe cause to mourn, 

Ye're lady o Hazelgreen.' 

a. " Got in the South County by Mr Pringle : 
MSS, I, 321. b. Kinloch's MSS, VII. 2. 

1 ' WHY weep ye by the tide, ladye ? 

Why weep ye by the tide ? 
I'll wed ye to my youngest son, 

And ye sail be his bride. 
And ye sail be his bride, ladye, 

Sae comely to be seen ; ' 

' Kinloch's 

But aye she loot the tears down fa 
For John o Hazelgreen. 

2 i O whaten a man is Hazelgreen ? 

I pray thee tell to me.' 
( O there's not a handsomer gentleman 

In a' the South Countrie. 
His arms are long, his shoulders broad, 

Sae comely to be seen ! ' 
And aye she loot the tears down fa 

For John o Hazelgreen. 

A- I 5 , she meant. 

Sharpe's transcript reads: I 1 . In for Into. 
5 s . come for go. 8*. Most for Right 

B. 6 s . thereat ; changed to therein in printing. 

The tine is run through in pencil. 
6*. raving. Cf. A 9 e . 

Kinloch made some changes in printing. 

C. Written throughout in stanzas of four verses. 

D. b. Since Chambers in some measure adjusted 

phraseology with a view to " literary " 
effect, it is impossible to make out which 
of the variations in his ballad came from 
the copy which he took down from, recita- 
tion. Upon extracting aU his variations, 
they have not turned out to be important. 
A few, which seem the most likely to 
have belonged to his recited copy, are sub- 

1*. I spied a lady in a wood. 

2*. An auld knicht 

7 M . youngest for second. 

17 4 . 
B. b. 2. 

10 M . And he has coft her silken claefl 
Garred her look like a queen : 
1 Ye surely now will sick nae mair 

For Jock o Hazelgreen.' 
13 7 . And they have ridden far athort. 
After 15. For her sake I did vow a vow 
I neer should wed but she ; 
Should this fair lady cruel prove, 

I'll lay me doun and dee. 
16*** 1 *. sick^/br wae. 
16 7 ' 8 . And a' she wants to heal her woe 

Is Jock o Hazelgreen. 
Ye're lady ower. 
1 What like a man is Haselgreen ? 

Lady, tell to me.' 
' He's a handsome, proper youth 

As ever my eyes did see. 
With shoulders broad and arms long, 

Most comely to be seen ; ' 
And still she lout the tears doun fa 
For Jock of Haselgreen. 




Dogall Quin,' The Old Lady's MS. Collection. No 27. 

IN this little ballad, which has barely story 
enough to be so called, Dugald Quin, a High- 
lander, who seems to give himself out as a 
man in very humble circumstances, induces 
Lizzie Menzies, a young lady who appears to 
have nine maids at her command, to follow 
him, regardless of her father's opposition. 
She cannot resist his merry winking eyes. 
After she has cast in her lot with his, he 
promises her nine mills (to match the nine 
maids), and to make her lady of Garlogie. 
The old lady minutes at the end of her copy 
that " it was the Marquis of Huntly." 

One version of * Rob Roy, 1 No 225, 1, 8, has 
a stanza like 2. 

4 What think ye o my coal-black hair, 
But and my twinkling een, lady, 

A little bonnet on my head, 
And cocket up aboon, lady ? ' 

I suppose the Farie of 6 2 , 9 2 , to stand for a 
locality on the way north to Boggle (Strath- 
bogie) ; I cannot, however, identify the place. 
'Tempeng chiss of farie,' 6 4 , 9*, 10 4 , may be 
a tempting fairy treasure. ' Chis ' is Gaelic 
for tribute, but I am at present unable, making 
whatever allowance for the capricious spelling 
of the manuscript, to suggest any satisfying 
explanation of this important phrase. 

Sir Walter Scott makes this note : " How 
the devil came Dugald Gunn [so he chooses to 
read Quin] to be identified with the Marquis 
of Huntly ? I never saw the song before ; it 
has some spunk in it." Sharpe's Ballad Book, 
ed. 1880, p. 154. 

1 DUGALL QUIN came to the toun, 

An he 'a ben lang awaa, 
An he is one to Lissie's bed, 
Tartan, trues, an a*. 

2 ( Hou wad ye leak me, Lisie,' he says, 

' Gin that I war yer ain, 
We raged cot apon my back, 

An singel-soled sheen, 
A littel we bonnet on my head, 

An tua merry wenking ean ? ' 

8 ' Well wad I leak ye, Dugall,' she says, 

' Gin that ye war my ain, 
We ragged coat upon yer back, 

An singel-soled sheen, 
A littel we bonnet on yer heady 

An tua merry wenking eyn. 

4 < Hou wad ye leak me, Dugall/ she says, 

4 Gin I wer yer ain, 
We silken sneed upon my head, 

An gold farm in my hand, 
An madins ning, a' dead in green, 

To be att my comand ? ' 

5 ' Well wad I leak ye, Lisle,' he says, 

* Gin ye wer my ain, 
We silken sneed upon yer head, 

An a goad fan in yer hand, 
An madins nine, a* clad in green, 

To be att yer command. 

6 ' Follou me nou, Line,' he says, 

' Follou me throu Farie, 
An reap the boddoms of my pakets, 
An ye '11 gett tempeng chiss of fared.' 



7 Outspak her father, says, 

lassie, I widna wish ye, 
For gin ye gay we this young man 
They will say I ha bat lost ye. 

8 * O had yer toung, my father dear, 

For a' that winne brake me ; 

For I will gaa we this young man, 

Since it 's his will to take me.' 

9 ' Follou me mm, LisaeV he says, 

' An f ollou me throu Farie, 
An reap the boddom of my poket, 
An ye 11 gett tempeng chess of fane.' 

10 ' Wea matt worth yer well-fared face, 
Alas that ever I saa ye ! 

The first an thing that ever ye gaa to me 
Was the tempen chess of farie.' 

11 Dugall Quin read doun the toun, 

Upon Dumfarling's horses, 

An Lisie Meanes f olloued him, 

For a' her father's forces. 

12 ' Follou me non, Lisie/ he says, 

' An f ollou me our Boggie ; 

I ill make ye lady of ning mills, 

An lady of bonny GarlogeV 

13 She has folloued her trou-love 

[An folloued him] our Boggie, 
An she has marred Dugall Quin, 
An lives belou Strathbogy. 

2 . bomnet. 4*, 12*. ning : a frequent spell- 
ing of the old lady's, conceived, perhaps, 
as nign. We have nine in 5*. 

12 1 . ill ; MS. affl. 
Note at the end: 

it was the markes of 



L/'The bonny Brown Girl,' The Brown Girl/ The 
Brown Girl's Garland, British Museum, 11621. c. 8 

B. As lately taken down in Devon by Rev. 8. Baring 

A YOUNG man who has been attached to a 
girl sends her word by letter that he cannot 
fancy her because she is so brown (he has left 
her for another maid in B). She sends a dis- 
dainful reply. He writes again that he is dan- 
gerously ill (he is love-sick in B), and begs 
her come to him quickly and give him back 
his faith. She takes her time in going, and 
when she comes to the sick man's bedside, 
cannot stand for laughing. She has, however, 
brought a white wand with her, which she 
strokes on his breast, in sign that she gives 
him back the faith which he had given her. 
But as to forgetting and forgiving, that she 
will never do ; she will dance upon his grave. 

This little ballad recalls ' Lord Thomas and 
Fair Annet ' (' Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor, 
with the downfall of the Brown Girl ' ), * Sweet 
William's Ghost,' 'Clerk Saunders,' 'The 
Unquiet Grave,' ' Bonny Barbara Allan,' and 
has something of all of them. Compare No 
78 ; No 77, A 4, B 2, 9, C 6, 14, D 4, 18, E 6, 
14 ; No 84 (for the laughing, B 12) ; No 69, 
A 20-22, D 11, 14, B 17-20, Q 28-25 ; No 
78, B 2, E 2, F 2. Still it is not deliberately 
and mechanically patched together (as are 
some pieces in Part VIII), and in the point 
of the proud and unrelenting character of the 
Brown Girl it is original. 



Tto Brown Girl's Garland, British Museum, IMS' c. a 
(10), a. d., before 1788. 

1 * I iin M brown M brown can be, 

My eyes M bUck M a aloe ; 
I am M briik M a nightingale, 
And ai wilde ai any doe. 

2 ' My love has sent me a love-letter, 

Not far from yonder town, 
That he could not fancy me, 
Because I was so brown. 

3 * I tent him hia letter back again, 

For liis love I valu'd not, 
Whether that he could fancy me 
Or whether he could not 

4 * He sent me his letter back again, 

That he lay dangerous sick, 

That I might then go speedily 
To give him up his faith.' 

5 Now you shall hear what lore the had 

Then for this love-sick man ; 
She was a whole long summer's day 
In a mile a going on. 

6 When she came to her lore's bed-side, 

Where he lay dangerous sick, 
She could not for laughing stand 
Upright upon her feet 

7 She had a white wand all in her hand. 

And smoothd it all on his breast j 
* In faith and troth come pardon me, 
I hope your soul 's at rest 

8 'I'll do as much for my true-lore 

As other maidens may ; 
I '11 dance and sing on my love's grave 
A whole twelvemonth and a day. 1 


Taken down lately by Rev. 6. Baring-Gould from a black- 
smith, parish of Thrushleton, Devon. 

1 * I am as brown as brown can be, 

And my eyes as black as sloe ; 
I am as brisk as brisk can be, 
And wild as forest doe. 

2 ( My love he was so high and proud, 

His fortune too so high, 
He for another fair pretty maid 
Me left and passed me by. 

8 ' Me did he send a love-letter, 

He sent it from the town, 

Saying no more he loved me, 

For that I was so brown. 

4 I sent his letter back again, 

Saying his love I valued not, 

Whether that he would fancy me, 

Whether that he would not 

5 * When that six months were overpassd, 

Were overpassd and gone, 

Then did my lover, once so bold, 
Lie on his bed and groan. 

6 * When that six months were overpassd, 

Were gone and overpassd, 

then my lover, once so bold, 

With love was sick at last 

7 ' First sent he for the doctor-man : 

1 You, doctor, me must cure ; 
The pains that now do torture me 
I can not long endure.' 

8 ' Next did he send from out the town, 

next did send for me ; 
He sent for me, the brown, brown girl 
Who once his wife should be. 

9 ( neer a bit the doctor-man 

His sufferings could relieve ; 
never an one but the brown, brown girl 
Who could his life reprieve.' 

10 Now you shall hear what love she had 

For this poor love-tick man, 
How all one day, a summer's day, 
She walked and never ran. 



11 When thai she came to his bedside, 

Where he lay sick and weak, 
then for laughing she could not stand 
Upright upon her feet. 

12 ' Ton floated me, you scouted me, 

And many another one ; 
Now the reward is come at last, 
For all that you have done.' 

13 The rings she took from off her hands, 

The rings by two and three : 
' take, O take these golden rings, 
By them remember me/ 

14 She had a white wand in her hand, 

She strake him on the breast : 
( My faith and troth I give back to thee, 
So may thy soul have rest.' 

15 < Prithee,' said he, 'forget, forget, 

Prithee forget, forgive ; 

grant me yet a little space, 
That I may be well and live.' 

16 ' never will I forget, forgive, 

So long as I have breath ; 

1 '11 dance above your green, green grave 

Where yon do lie beneath.' 

A. Heading. The Brown Girl ; to an excellent tune. 

B. From A right merry book of Garlands. Col- 

lected by J. Bell, on the Quay, Newcastle 
upon Tyne. A slip inserted after the 6th 
Garland bears these words : The old gar- 
lands in these volumes [11621. c. 3, c. 4] are 
printed by J. White, who died in 1769, and 

by T. Saint, who died in 1788. . . . Letter 

of J. Bell. 
The Brown Girl's Garland, composed of four 

extraordinary new songs. 
The bonny Brown Girl, etc., etc. 

4*. his Eilk. 


' Walter Lesly,' Buchan's Ballade of the North of Scotland, II, 189. 

A LATE, bat life-like and spirited ballad. 

Walter Lesly steals a girl, not for her 
beauty or blood, but for her mother's dollars, 
of which he has need. She is tied on to a 
horse, taken to an ale-house, and put to bed. 

Lesly, weary with hard riding, falls asleep ; 
the girl gets up and runs over moss, moor, 
hill and dale, barefoot. Lesly's men pursue, 
but the road is full of pools and tires the men 
out. The girl effects her escape. 

1 On the second of October, a Monday at 

In came Walter Lesly, to see his proper 

He set a chair down by her side, and gently 

sat her by, 
Says, Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time 

to lye? 

2 He 's taen a glass into his hand, inviting her 

to drink, 
But little knew she his meaning, or what the 

rogue did think ; 
Nor what the rogue did think, to steal the 

maid away ; 
'Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to 




3 When they had taen a glass or two, and aU 

were making merry, 
In came Geordy Lesly, and forth he did her 

Then upon high horseback sae hard 's he did 

her tye, 
* Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to 


4 Her mother she came to the door, the saut tears 

on her cheek, 
She coudna see her daughter, it was for dust 

and reek ; 
It was for dost and reek, the swords they glancd 

sae high ; 
< And will ye go to Conland, this winter-time 

to lye?' 

5 When they came to the ale-house, the people 

there were busy ; 
A bridal-bed it was well made, and supper well 

made ready; 
When the supper down was set, baith plum- 

pudding and pie, 

* And will ye go to Conland, this winter-time 

to lye?' 

6 When they had eaten and well drunken, and 

a' man bound for bed, 
The laddie and the lassie in ae chamber were 

He quickly stript her to the smock, and gently 

laid her bye, 
Says, Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time 

to lye? 

7 But Walter being weary, he fell fast asleep, 
And then the lassie thought it fit to start up 

till her feet ; 
To start up till her feet, and her petticoats to tye, 

* We '11 go no more to Conland, the winter-time 

to lye.' 

8 Then over moss and over muir sae cleverly she 

And over hill and over dale, without stockings 

or shoon ; 
The men pursued her full fast, wi mony shout 

and cry, 
Says, Will ye go to Conland, the winter-time 

to lye. 

9 * Wae to the dubs o Duff us land, that eer they 

were sae deep ; 

They've trachled a* our horsemen and gart 
our captain sleep ; 

And gart our captain sleep, and the lassie win 

And she '11 go no more to Conland, the winter- 
time to lye/ 

10 < I 'd rather be in Duff us land, selling at the 


Before I was wi Lesly, for a' his auld meal ; 
For a' his auld meal, and sae mony comes to 

I '11 go no more to Conland the winter-time to 


11 * I 'd rather be in Duffus land, dragging at the 


Before I was wi Lesly, for a' his yellow hair ; 
For a' his yellow hair, and sae well 's he can 

it tye; 
I '11 go no more to Conland, this winter-time to 


12 It was not for her beauty, nor yet her gentle 


But for her mither's dollars, of them he had 
great need; 

Of them he had great need, now he maun do 
them by, 

For she '11 go no more to Conland, this winter- 
time to lye. 

Printed in stanzas of eight short lines. 





' Earl Rothes,' Kinlooh MSB, I, 883. 

LADY ANN hat an adulterous connection 
with Sari Bothes, and her youthful brother 
seeks to sunder it He offers to pay a tocher 
for her if she will forsake the earl's company ; 
to keep her in his castle till she is safely 

brought to bed, and make her a marquis's 
lady ; she rejects all his offers with scorn. 
The boy declares that when he is old enough 
to wear a sword he will thrust it through Earl 
Rothes for using his sister so badly. 

1 <O EABL Bothes, an thou wert mine, 

And I were to be thy ladie, 
I wad drink at the beer, and tipple at the 

And be my bottle with any.' 

2 ' Hold thy tongue, sister Ann/ he says, 

4 Thy words they are too many ; 

What wad ye do wi sae noble a lord, 

When he has to noble a ladie ? 

8 * 1 '11 pay you your tocher, Lady Ann, 

Both in gear and money, 
If ye 'U forsake Earl Bothes's companie, 
And mind that he has a ladie. 1 

4 * I do not value your gold,' she says, 

4 Tour gear it 's no sae readie ; 
I'll neer forsake Earl Rothes's companie, 
And I don't gie a fig for his ladie.' 

6 Til keep ye i the castle, Lady Ann, 
O servants ye shall hae monie ; 

I 'U keep ye till ye 're lately brooht to bed, 
And I '11 xnak you a marquis'* ladie.' 

6 * I do not value your castle,' she says, 

4 Your servants are no sae readie ; 
Earl Bothes will keep me till I 'm brooht to 

And he 'U mak me a marquis's ladie.' 

7 ( Woe be to thee, Earl Rothes/ he says, 

4 And the mark o the judge be upon thee, 
For the using o this poor thing sae, 
For the using my sister so badly. 

8 ' When I 'm come to the years of a man, 

And able a sword to carry, 
I 'U thrust it thro Earl Bothes' bodie 
For the using my sister sae basely. 

9 4 Fare thee well, Lady Ann,' he says, 

4 No longer will I tarry ; 
You and I will never meet again, 
Till we meet at the bonny town o Torry.' 




4 Young Peggy,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 153. 

PEGGY has been seen in the garden with 
Jamie late in the night, for which her 
mother calls her to account. She does not 
deny the fact; she takes the blame on herself ; 
the thing will happen again. But going to 
her bower, where Jamie is attending her, she 

tells him they must meet no more. He makes 
a tryst with her in the greenwood at midnight, 
she keeps it and goes off with her lover. Her 
father pursues them, but they are married 
before he gets to the top of the hill. 

1 WHARE hae ye been, Peggy ? 

whare hae ye been ? ' 
' I the garden amang the gilly-flowrs, 
Atween twal hours and een.' 

2 * Ye 've na been there your leen, Peggy, 

Ye 've na been there your leen ; 
Your father saw you in Jamie's arms, 
Atween twal hours and een.' 

3 ' Tho my father saw me in Jamie's arms, 

He 11 see me there again ; 
For I will sleep in Jamie's arms 
When his grave 's growin green.' 

4 ' Your Jamie is a rogue, Peggy, 

Your Jamie is a loun, 
For trysting out our ae dochter. 
And her sae very young. 1 

5 ' Lay no the wyte on Jamie, mither, 

The blame a' lies on me ; 
For I will sleep in Jamie's arms 
When your een winna see.' 

6 Now she has to her ain bouer gane ; 

He was waiting there him leen : 
' I 'm blythe to see ye, Jamie, here, 
For we maunna meet again.' 

7 She 's tane the wine-glass in her hand, 

Pourd out the wine sae clear ; 
Says, Here 's your health and mine, Jamie, 
And we maun meet na mair. 

8 She has tane him in her arms twa, 

And gien him kisses five ; 
Says, Here 's your health and mine, Jamie, 
I wish weel mote ye thrive. 

9 * Your father has a bonnie cock, 

Divides the nicht and day, 
And at the middle watch o the nicht 
In greenwud ye '11 meet me.' 

10 Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung, 

And a' men boun for bed, 
She 's kilted up her green claithing, 
And met Jamie in the wud. 

11 Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung, 

About the hour o twa, 
It 's up bespak her auld father, 
Says, Peggy is awa ! 

12 ' Ga saddle to me the black, the black, 

Ga saddle to me the grey ; ' 
But ere they wan to the tap o the hill 
The wedding was a' bye. 




A. ' The Trooper and Fair Maid/ Bnchan't Ballade of B. * The Trooper/ Motherwell's MS., p. ST. 
the North of Scotland, I, 280. 

C. Jamieion's Scottish Ballads, II, 158. 

A TROOPER comes to the house of his mis- 
tress in the evening and is kindly received. 
They pass the night together and are wakened 
by the trumpet.' He must leave her; she 
follows him some way, he begging her to turn 
back. She asks him repeatedly when they 
are to meet again and marry. He answers, 
when cockle shells grow siller bells, when 
fishes fly and seas gang dry, etc. : see I, 168, 

There are several other ballads of a trooper 
and a maid (Peggy). In ' The Bonnie Lass 
o Fyvie/ Christie, 1, 276, Murison MS., p. 50, 
Kinloch MSS, VII, 339, Buchan MSS, II, 270, 
* Irish Dragoons,' Motherwell's MSS, p. 428, 
a captain falls in love with a Peggy and dies 
thereof ; but in another copy, * Pretty Peggy/ 
Gibb MS., No 13, p. 53, all is made to end 
well. A dragoon very constant and liberal 
to Peggy, and she very fond to him, are hap- 
pily married in ' The Dragoon and Peggy/ 
Maidment, Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, 
p. 98, from a Glasgow copy of the date 1800. 
The first half of this ballad is found under 
the title of 4 The Laird of Kellary ' in Kin- 

loch MSS, I, 859. In an English broadside 
which is perhaps of the first half of the seven- 
teenth century, a married Peggy leaves her 
husband to follow a soldier over sea, but re- 
turns and is forgiven : 4 The Soldier and 
Peggy/ Roxburghe collection, I, 370 (also 
Pepys, Euing, Douce), Chappell, The Rox- 
burghe Ballads, II, 475. * Peggie is over the 
sie with the souldier ' is the title of a tune 
(No 95) in the Skene MSS, which date from 
the first quarter of the seventeenth century. 
A correspondent of C. K. Sharpe sent him 
one stanza of a Scottish ballad upon this 
theme : 

Peggie 's gane oer the seas, a* dressed in red, 
An Peggie 's come back again, beggin her bread. 
The landladie looked wi the tail o her ee : 
* O fool fa ye, Peggie, for leaving o me.' 

There is also a ballad of a valiant trooper 
and a pretty Peggy who, at first inconstant, 
turns out a loving wife, in Pepys, IV, 40, 
No 37. 

A is translated by Gerhard, p. 189. 

1 One evening as a maid did walk, 
The moon was shining clearly, 

She heard a trooper at the gates, 
She thought it was her dearie. 

She 's taen his horse then by the head, 
And led him to the stable, 

And gien to him baith corn and hay, 
To eat what he was able. 

Bonny lass, gin I come near you, 

Bonny lass, gin I come near you, 
I '11 gar a* your ribbons reel, 
Bonny lass, or eer I lea you. 

2 She 's taen the trooper by the hand, 
And led him to the table, 



And furnlshd him wi bread and cheese, 

To eat what he was able. 
She 'B taen the wine-glass in her hand, 

Poured out the wine sae clearly ; 
4 Here is your health an mine/ she cried, 

* And ye 're welcome haxne, my deary I 

3 < A glass o wine for gentlemen, 

And bonny lads for lasses, 
And bread and cheese for cavaliers, 

And corn and hay for asses.' 
Then she went but and made his bed, 

She made it like a lady, 
And she coost aff her mankie gown, 

Says, Laddie, are you ready ? 

4 Tben he coost aff his big watch-coat, 

But and his silken beaver, 
A pair o pistols frae his side, 

And he lay down beside her. 
' Bonny lassie, I am wi you now, 

Bonny lassie I am wi you, 
But I '11 gar a' your ribbons reel, 

Bonny lassie, ere I lea you.' 

5 The trumpet sounds thro Birldale, 

Says, Men and horse, make ready ; 
The drums do beat at Staneman hill, 

* Lads, leave your mam and daddie.' 
The fifes did play at Cromley banks, 

4 Lads, leave the lewes o Fyvie ; ' 
And then the trooper he got up, 
Says, Lassie, I must lea you. 

6 ' Bonny lassie, I maun lea you now, 

Bonny lassie, I maun lea you ; 
But if ever I come this road again, 
I will come in and see you.' 

7 She 's taen her gown out-ower her arms, 

And followed liim to Stirling, 
And aye the trooper he did say, 

O turn ye back, my darling. 
< when will we twa meet again ? 

Or when will you me marry ? ' 

( When rashin rinds grow gay gowd rings, 
I winna langer tarry.' 

8 4 O when will we twa meet again ? 

Or when will you me marry ? ' 
' When heather-knaps grow siller taps, 

I winna langer tarry.' 
4 O when will we twa meet again ? 

Or when will you me marry ? ' 

* When heather-cows grow owsen-bows, 

I winna langer tarry.' 

9 * O when will we twa meet again ? 

Or when will you me marry ? ' 

* When cockle-shells grow siller bells, 

I winna langer tarry.' 
4 O when will we twa meet again ? 

Or when will you me marry ? ' 
4 When apple-trees grow in the seas, 

I winna langer tarry.' 

10 4 when will we twa meet again ? 

Or when will you me marry ? ' 
4 When fishes fly, and seas gang dry, 

I winna langer tarry.' 
4 O when will we twa meet again ? 

Or when will you me marry ? ' 
4 When frost and snaw shall warm us a', 

I winna langer tarry.' 

11 4 Yestreen I was my daddie's dow, 

But an my mamy's dawtie ; 
This night I gang wi bairn to you, 

Wae 's me that I eer saw thee ! ' 
4 Yestreen ye were your daddie's dow, 

But an your mammie's dawtie ; 
But gin ye gang wi bairn to me, 

Ye may rue that eer ye saw me. 

12 4 O turn back, my bonny lass, 

And turn back, my dearie ; 
For the Highland hills are ill to climb, 
And the bluidy swords woud fear ye/ 


Motherwell'i MS., p. 27; from the recitation of Widow 

1 There cam a trooper frae the West, 
And of riding he waa weary ; 

He rappit at and clappit at, 

In calling for his dearie. 
By chance the maid was in the close, 

The moon was shining clearly, 
She opened the gates and let him in, 

Says, Ye 're welcome hame, my dearie. 



2 She took the hone by the bridle-reins 

And led him to the stable ; 
She gave him corn and hay to eat, 

As much as he was able. 
She up the stair and made the bed, 

She made it fit for a lady, 
Then she coost aff her petticoat, 

Said) Trooper, are ye ready ? 

' There 's bread and cheese for musqueteers, 
And corn and hay for hor[s]es, 

Sack and sugar for auld wives, 
And lads for bonnie lasses/ 

4 He coost aff his gude buff coat, 
His boots, likewise his beaver, 

He drew his rapier frae his side, 
And streekit him down beside her. 

' Bonnie lass, I trew I 'm near the[e] now, 
Bonnie lass, I trew I 'm near thee, 

And I '11 gar a' thy ribbons reel, 
Bonnie lassie, or I lea thee.' 

5 They had but spoken little a while 

Till of speaking they were weary ; 
They sleeped together in each other's arms 

Till the sun was shining clearly. 
The very first sound the trumpet gave 

Was, Troopers, are ye ready ? 
Away you must to London town, 

Or else for Londonderry. 

6 She took the bottle in her hand, 

The glass into the other. 
She filled it up with blood-red wine, 

Until it ran quite over. 
She drank a health to her love on the stair, 

Saying, When shall we two marry ? 
Or when shall we two meet again, 

On purpose for to marry ? 

7 * when shall we two meet again ? 

Or when shall we two many ? ' 
' When cockle-shells grow siller bells ; 
No longer must I tarry.' 

Jamieson, Popular Ballads, II, 158, as often heard by him 
in Morayshire. 

1 THERE cam a trooper frae the west, 

And he 's ridden till his deary ; 
( It 's open and lat me in,' he says, 
For I am wet and weary.' 

' Whan heather-cows turn owsen-bows, 
It 's then that we '11 be married.' 

' whan sail we be married, love ? 

when sail we be married ? ' 
' When cockle-shells turn siller bells, 

It 's then that we '11 be married.' 

* whan sail we be married, love ? 
whan sail we be married ? ' 

' Whan the sun and moon dance on the green. 
It ' then that we 11 be married.' 

A. 6 1 . Lewas. 5*. lea you now. 

B. 4 8 . threw? M otherweU. 4 T . gard. 

G. The verses are given incidentally in a preface 
to another ballad. Between 1 and 2: The 
kind fair one puts his horse into the stable 

and takes himself to her bower, where she 
gives him * the good white bread and blood- 
red wine,' and a part of her bed. In the 
morning, when he proposes to depart, she 
naturally enough asks [as in at. 2]. 





Blanoheflour and Jeilyfloiioe/ Buohan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, 1, 125 ; Motherwell's MS., p. 588. 

A MAID who has been some years in a lady's 
service aspires to something higher ; she seeks 
and obtains a place with a queen, * to sew the 
seams of silk.' The queen warns her to keep 
herself from the young prince, but the pair 
become familiar, and the queen has her 
mounted on a wild horse without a bridle, ex- 
pecting to dispose of her summarily in this 
way. But the prince takes her from the 
horse and declares that he will marry her 
within the month. 

Buchan suspects that some "poetaster" 
has remodelled the story of the romance of 
Florioe and Blanoheflour, " modernizing it to 

suit the climate of his time," that is, perhaps, 
turning a princess into a sempstress. The 
only thing in the romance that is even re- 
motely like what we find in the ballad is that 
Florioe saves Blancheflour from the death 
which his father had contrived for her in 
order to part the lovers, and this passage does 
not occur in the English versions of the ro- 

There is a Flemish ballad, so to call it, 
composed from the romance: Coussemaker, 
p. 177, No 51, Baecker, Chansons historiques 
de la Flandre, p. 121; Oude Liedekens in 
Bladeren, L. van Paemel, Oend, No 17. 

1 THERE wai a maid, richly arrayd, 

In robes were rare to see, 
For seven yean and something mair 
She serrd a gay ladle. 

S But being fond o a higher place, 

In service she thought lang ; 
She took her mantle her about, 
Her coffer by the band. 

S And as she walkd by the shore-side, 

As blythe 's a bird on tree, 
Tet still she gai'd her round about, 
To see what she could see. 

4 At last she spied a little castle, 

That stood near by the sea ; 
She spied it far and drew it near, 
To that castle went she. 

5 And when the came to that castle 

She tlrled at the pin, 
And ready stood a little wee boy 
To lat this fair maid in. 

6 ' O who 9 s the owner of this place, 

O porter-boy, tell me; ' 

1 This place belongs unto a queen 

birth and high degree/ 

9 She put her hand in her pocket, 

And gae him shillings three : 
4 O porter, bear my message well 
Unto the queen frae me. 1 

S The porter 's gane before the queen, 

Fell low down on his knee : 

4 Win up, win up, my porter-boy, 

What makes this courtesie ? ' 

9 * I hae been porter at your yetts, 

My dame, these years full three, 
But see a ladie at your yetts 
The fairest my eyes did see.' 

10 ' Cast up my yetts baith wide and braid, 

Lat her come in to me, 
And I '11 know by her courtesie 
Lord's daughter if she be/ 

11 When she came in before the queen, 

Fell low down on her knee : 
4 Service frae you, my dame the queen, 

1 pray you grant it me/ 



12 ' If that service ye now do want, 

What station will ye be? 
Can ye card wool, or spin, fair maid, 
Or milk the cows to me ? ' 

13 'No, I can neither card nor spin, 

Nor cows I canno milk, 
But sit into a lady's bower 
And sew the seams o silk.' 

14 ' What is your name, ye comely dame? 

Pray tell this unto me : ' 
* O Blancheflour, that is my name, 
Born in a strange countrie.' 

15 ' O keep ye well frae Jellyflorice 

My ain dear son is he 

When other ladies get a gift, 

O that ye shall get three.* 

16 It wasna tald into the bower 

Till it went thro the ha, 
That Jellyflorice and Blancheflour 
Were grown ower great witha. 

17 When the queen's maids their visits paid, 

Upo the gude Yule-day, 

When other ladies got horse to ride, 
She bond take foot and gae. 

18 The queen she calld her stable-groom, 

To come to her right seen ; 
Says, Ye '11 take out yon wild waith steed 
And bring him to the green. 

19 ' Ye Ml take the bridle frae his head, 

The lighters frae his een ; 
Ere she ride three times roun the cross, 
Her weel-days will be dune." 

20 Jellyflorice his true-love spy'd 

As she rade roun the cross, 
And thrice he kissd her lovely lips, 
And took her frae her horse. 

21 * Gang to your bower, my lily-flower, 

For a' my mother's spite ; 
There 's nae other amang her maids, 
In whom I take delight. 

22 ' Ye are my jewel, and only ane, 

Nane *s do you injury ; 
For ere this-d ay-month come and gang 
My wedded wife ye 'se be.' 


'The Queen of Scotland,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 46 ; Motherwell's MS., p. 577. 

A QTJEEN in the king's absence invites 
young Troy Muir to her bower and bed ; he 
declines, and the queen resolves to do him an 
ill turn. She tells him that if he will lift a 
stone in the garden he will find in a pit under 
the stone gold enough to buy him a dukedom. 
The next morning Troy Muir lifts the stone, 
and a long-starved serpent winds itself round 
his middle. A maid comes by and allays the 
serpent's rage by cutting off her pap for him. 

Troy Muir is immediately released and the 
wound in the maid's breast heals in an hour. 
Troy Muir marries the maid the same day ; 
she bears him a son, and by heaven's grace 
recovers her pap thereupon. 

The insipid ballad may have been rhymed 
from some insipid tale. Motherwell conjec- 
tured that Troy Muir stands for Triamour, 
but the story here has no sort of resemblance 
to the romance. 

<O TROT Mum, my lily-flower, 
An asking I '11 ask thee ; 

Will ye come to my bigley bower 
And drink the wine wi me ? ' 

' My dame, this is too much honour 
You have conf errd on me ; 

I'm sore it 's mair than I 've deservd 
Frae sic a one as thee.' 



3 ' In Reekie's towers I hae a bower, 

And pictures round it set ; 
There is a bed that is well made, 
Where you and I shall sleep/ 

4 < O God forbid/ this youth then said, 

' That ever I drie sic blame 
As ever to touch the queen's bodie, 
Altho the king *s frae Lame.' 

5 When that he had these words spoken, 

She secretly did say, 
Some evil I shall work this man, 
Before that it be day. 

6 Whan a' her maids were gane to bed, 

And knights were gane frae hame, 
She calld upon young Troy Muir, 
To put fire in her room. 

7 ' An asking, asking, Troy Muir, 

An asking ye '11 grant me ; ' 
' O, if it be a lawful thing, 
My dame it 's granted be.' 

8 ' There is a stane in yon garden, 

Nae ane lifts it for me ; 
But if that ye wond lift the same, 
A brave man I '11 ca thee. 

9 ( Under yon stane there is a pit, 

Most dreary for to see, 
And in it there 's as much red gowd 
As buy a dukedom to thee.' 

10 if I had ae sleep in bed, 

And saw the morning sun, 
As soon 'B I rise and see the skies, 
Your will it shall be done.' 

11 When birds did sing, and sun did rise, 

And sweetly sang the lark, 

Troy Muir to the garden went, 

To work this dreary wark. 

12 He 's taen the stane then by a ring, 

And lifted manf ullie ; 
A serpent that lang wanted meat 
Round Troy Muir's middle did flee. 

13 ' How shall I get rid o this foul beast ? 

It 's by it I must dee ; 
I never thought the queen, my friend, 
Woud work this mischief to me.' 

14 But by there came a weelfaird may, 

As Troy Muir did tauk, 
The serpent's furious rage to lay, 
Cut aff her fair white pap. 

15 As soon as she the same had done, 

Young Troy Muir was set free, 
And in ane hour the wound was heald, 
That nae mair pain had she. 

16 Says Troy Muir, My lily-flower, 

Ye hae released me ; 
But before I see another day, 
My wedded wife ye 'se be. 

17 He married her on that same day, 

Brought her to his ain hame ; 
A lovely son to him she bare, 

When full nine months were gane. 

18 As heaven was pleasd, in a short time, 

To ease her first sad pain, 
Sae was it pleasd, when she 'd a son, 
To hae a pap again. 


am. Yorora BBABWXLX. 



Young Bearweiy Bnchan'i Balladi of the North of Scotland, II, 75 ; Motherwell's MS., p. 456, derived from 

Buchan ; MotherwelTe Minstrelsy, p. 845. 

THIS is one of half a dozen pieces sent 
Buchan by Mr Nicol of Strichen, " who wrote 
them from memory as he had learned them in 
his earlier years from old people." It is also 
one of not a few flimsy and unjointed ballads 
found in Buchan's volumes, the like of which 
is hardly to be found elsewhere, that require 
a respectable voucher, such as Mr Nicol un- 
doubtedly was, for the other five pieces com- 
municated by him were all above suspicion, 
and have a considerable value. It will not, 
however, help the ballad much that it was 
not palmed off on Buchan in jest or other- 
wise, or even if it was learned from an old 
person by Mr Nicol in his youth. The in- 
trinsic character of the ballad remains, and 
old people have sometimes burdened their 
memory with worthless things. 

Young Bearwell and a mayor's daughter 
are lovers. Seeing him coming along one day, 
the lady tells him that there are such reports 
in circulation about him that he will have to 
sail the sea beyond Yorkisfauld, which may 
be beyond Ultima Thule for aught we know. 
Bearwell's life is in danger where he is, and 
the lady has had the forethought to build him 
a ship, in which she sends him off. By the 

process of sailing both east and west and then 
meeting wind from the north, he is blown to a 
land where the king and court, who pass their 
time mostly in playing ball, put a harp into the 
hand of every stranger and invite him to stay 
and play. Bearwell stays, and perhaps plays, 
twelve months. During this time the lady is 
so beset with suitors that she feels constrained 
to apply to a young skipper named Heyvalin 
to fetch her true-love back. To do this he 
must sail first east, then west, and then have 
a blast of north wind to blow him to the land. 
All this comes to pass ; the king and court 
are playing ball, but immediately put a harp 
into Heyvalin's hand and urge him to stay 
and play. Skipper though he be, he falls to 
playing, and finds Bearwell the first man in 
all the company. 

" From circumstances," which do not occur 
to me, Motherwell would almost be inclined 
to trace this piece to a Danish source, " or it 
may be an episode of some forgotten metrical 
romance." It may also, and more probably, 
be the effort of some amateur ballad-monger 
in northern Scotland whose imagination was 
unequal to the finishing of the inane story 
which he had undertaken. 

1 WHEN two lovers love each other well, 

Great sin it were them to twinn ; 
And this I speak from Young Bearwell ; 

He loved a lady young, 
The Mayor's daughter of Birktoun-brae, 

That lovely, leesome thing. 

2 One day when she was looking out, 

When washing her milk-white hands, 

That she beheld him Young Bearwell, 
As he came in the sands. 

3 Says, Wae 's me for you, Young Bear- 


Such tales of you are tanld ; 
They'll cause you sail the salt sea so 

As beyond Yorkisfauld. 



' shall I bide in good greenwood, 
Or stay in bower with thee ? ' 

5 ( The leaves are thick in good greenwood, 

Would hold you from the rain ; 
And if you stay in bower with me 
You will be taken and slain. 

6 ' But I caused build a ship for you 

Upon Saint Innocent's day ; 
I '11 bid Saint Innocent be your guide, 

And Our Lady, that meikle may. 
You are a lady's first true-love, 

God carry you well away 1 ' 

7 Then he sailed east, and he sailed west, 

By many a comely strand ; 
At length a puff of northern wind 
Did blow him to the land. 

8 When he did see the king and court, 

Were playing at the ba ; 
Gave him a harp into his hand, 
Says, Stay, Bearwell, and play. 

9 He had not been in the king's court 

A twelvemonth and a day, 
Till there came lairds and lords anew 
To court that lady gay. 

10 They wooed her with brooch and ring, 
They nothing could keep back ; 

The very charters of their lands 
Into her hands they pat 

11 She 's done her down to Heyvalin, 

With the light of the moon; 
Says, Will ye do this deed for me, 
4nd will ye do it soon ? 

12 < Will ye go seek him Young Bearwell, 

On seas wherever he be ? 
And if I live and bruik my life 
Rewarded ye shall be.' 

13 ' Alas, I am too young a skipper, 

So far to sail the f aem ; 
But if I live and bruik my life 
I '11 strive to bring him hame.' 

14 So he has saild east and then saild west, 

By many a comely strand, 
Till there came a blast of northern wind 
And blew him to the land. 

15 And there the king and all his court 

Were playing at the ba ; 
Gave him a harp into his hand, 
Says, Stay, Heyvalin, and play. 

16 He has tane up the harp in hand, 

And unto play went he, 
And Young Bearwell was the first man 
In all that companie. 



The Holy Nunnery/ Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 193. 

WILLIE'S father and mother have vowed 
that he shall never marry Annie. Annie re- 
solves that she will be a nun, asks her father's 
consent and obtains it readily. At the nun- 
nery-gate there is a maiden porter ( wi gowd 

upon her hat,' who would not have been quite 
out of place at the wicket of the garden of the 
Rose. Porter though she be, she seems to 
exercise the authority of a mother-superior. 
Annie asks admission, ' there to live or die,' 



and is allowed to come in on terms : never to 
kiss a young man's mouth, and to work hard ; 
conditions not surprising, but there is another 
which is unusual, never to go to church (or is 
it Kirk that is meant ?) Annie is seven years 
in the nunnery, all which time Willie lies lan- 
guishing. His mother asks him if there is 
nothing that would help him ; there is nothing, 
he says, but his love Annie. They dress him 
up like a lady, in silk and gold, he goes to the 

nunnery-gate, and the maiden porter 'wi 
gowd upon her hat ' makes no difficulty about 
letting him in. Annie knows him, and says, 
Come up, my sister dear. Willie essays to 
kiss her lips, but she whispers, This I dare 
not avow. The rest is wanting, and again 
we may doubt whether the balladist had not 
exhausted himself, whether a story so begun 
could be brought to any conclusion. 

1 FAIK ANNIE had a costly bower, 

Well built wi lime and stane, 
And Willie came to visit her, 
Wi the light o the meen. 

2 When he came to Annie's bower-door, 

He tided at the pin : 
' Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Fair Annie, 
Ye '11 open, lat me come in/ 

8 * never a fit, 1 says Fair Annie, 

' Till I your errand ken ; ' 
' My father 's vowd a vow, Annie, 
I '11 tell you when I 'm in. 

4 ' My father 's vowed a rash vow, 

I darena marry thee ; 
My mither 's vowed anither vow, 
My bride ye 'se never be/ 

5 ( If ye had tauld me that, Willie, 

When we began to woo, 
There was naithing in this warld wide 
Shoud drawn my love to you. 

6 ' A nun, a nun/ said Fair Annie, 

4 A nun will I be then ; ' 
1 A priest, a priest/ said Sweet Willie, 
' A priest will I be syne/ 

7 She is gane to her father, 

For mither she had nane ; 

And she is on to her father, 

To see if she 'd be a nun. 

8 ' An asking, asking, father dear, 

An asking ye '11 grant me ; 
That 's to get to the holy nunnery, 
And there to live or die/ 

9 ' Your asking 's nae sae great, daughter, 

But granted it shall be ; 
For ye 'se won to the holy nunnery, 
There to live or die/ 

10 Then they gaed on, and farther on, 

Till they came to the yate ; 
And there they spied a maiden porter, 
Wi gowd upon her hat. 

11 ( An asking, asking, maiden porter, 

An asking ye '11 grant me ; 
If I '11 won to the holy nunnery, 
There to live or die/ 

12 * Your asking 's nae sae great, lady, 

But granted it shall be ; 
For ye 'se won to the holy nunnery, 
There to live or die. 

13 * But ye maun vow a vow, lady, 

Before that ye seek in ; 
Never to kiss a young man's mouth 
That goes upon the grun. 

14 ' And ye must vow anither vow, 

Severely ye must work ; 
The well-warst vow that ye 're to vow, 
Is never to gang to kirk/ 

16 * I will vow a vow/ she said, 

< Before that I seek in ; 
I neer shall kise a young man's mouth 
That goes upon the grun. 

16 ' And I will vow anither vow, 

Severely I will work ; 
The well-warst vow that I 'm to vow 
Is never to gang to kirk/ 



17 For seven yean now Fair Annie, 

In the holy nunnery lay she, 
And seven years Sweet Willie lay. 
In languish like to die* 

18 ' Is there nae duke nor lord's daughter, 

My son, can comfort thee, 
And save thee frae the gates o death ? 
Is there nae remedie ? ' 

19 ( There is nae duke nor lord's daughter, 

Mother, can comfort me, 
Except it be my love, Annie, 
In the holy nunnery lies she.' 

20 They Ve dressd Sweet Willie up in silk, 

Wi gowd his gown did shine, 
And nane coud ken by his pale face 
But he was a lady fine. 

21 So they gaed on, and farther on, 

Till they came to the yate, 

And there they spied a maiden porter, 
Wi gowd upon her hat 

22 'An asking, an asking, maiden porter, 

An asking ye '11 grant me ; 
For to win in to the holy nunnery, 
Fair Annie for to see/ 

23 ' Your asking 's nae sae great, lady, 

But granted it shall be ; 
Ye 'se won into the holy nunnery, 
Fair Annie for to see. 

24 * Be she duke's or lord's daughter, 

It 's lang sin she came here : ' 
Fair Annie kent her true love's face ; 
Says, Come up, my sister dear. 

25 Sweet Willie went to kiss her lips, 

As he had wont to do ; 
But she softly whispered him, 
I darena this avow. 



Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 282; Mother well's MS., p. 601, derived from Buchan. 

YOUNG RONALD, a noble squire, but still 
school-boy (11, 29), lays his love on the 
daughter of the king of Lirme, a locality 
which, as it occurs several times in ballads, 
we are glad to learn is not far from Windsor. 
In the course of an interview with the lady in 
her garden, she tells him that though she en- 
tirely feels the honor he has done her, she 
must he subject to her father's will. Ronald's 
father and mother are greatly concerned for 
their son, seeing that the lady has already 
rejected many suitors. He pays his love a 
second visit, and protests that for her sake he 
would fight long and hard. Be not too hasty, 
she answers ; you must buckle with a more 
dangerous foe than you wot of, ere you win 

me by war. She proceeds to explain that her 
father will have to go to war the next day 
with a giant who has been very troublesome, 
and then to make him various offers with the 
view of enlisting him in the affair ; among 
which are two standard rings, one of which 
will stanch the blood of any of his men who 
may be hurt, the other prevent the drawing 
of his own blood. 

Young Ronald reports to his father the en- 
couragement which he has received from hi 
love, the impending contest with the giant, 
and the gifts which she has made him ; and 
the father, on his part, promises him a com- 
pany of a hundred well-armed men. Sup- 
ported by these, and invigorated by a third 



meeting in the garden, Ronald rides proudly 
to the field. The giant, who is handicapped 
with three heads on his neck, and three more 
on his breast, challenges the king of Linne 
to combat, and the king offers his daughter 
and a third of his lands to any champion who 
will undertake the giant. Ronald is ready, 
and, according to the rule in such cases, dis- 
dains the offer of any reward but the daugh- 
ter. The thought of her gives him a lion's 
courage, and such potency to his arm that he 
cuts off all the six heads of the giant at one 

If any lover of ballads should feel his un- 
derstanding insulted by the presentation of 
such a piece as this, I can have no quarrel 

with him. There is certainly much in it that 
is exasperating, the greeters in the school, 
the lifting of the hat, and, most of all, per- 
haps, the mint in meadows. These are, how- 
ever, the writer's own property ; the nicking 
with nay and the giant are borrowed from 
romances. In this and not a very few other 
cases, I have suppressed disgust, and admitted 
an actually worthless and a manifestly at 
least in part spurious ballad, because of a 
remote possibility that it might contain relics, 
or be a debased representative, of something 
genuine and better. Such was the advice of 
my lamented friend, Grundtvig, in more in- 
stances than those in which I have brought 
myself to defer to his judgment. 

1 IT fell upon the Lammas time, 

When flowers were fresh and green, 
And craig and cleugh was covered ower 
With cloathing that was clean. 

2 'T was at that time a noble squire, 

Sprung from an ancient line, 
Laid his love on a lady fair, 
The king's daughter o Linne. 

3 When cocks did craw, and day did daw, 

And mint in meadows sprang, 
Young Ronald and his little wee boy 
They rode the way alang. 

4 So they rode on, and farther on, 

To yonder pleasant green, 
And there he spied that lady fair, 
In her garden alane. 

5 These two together lang they stood, 

And love's tale there they taul ; 
The glancing o her fair color 
Did Ronald's own impale. 

6 He lifted 's hat, and thus he spake ; 

pity have on me ! 
For I could pledge what is my right, 
All for the sake of thee. 

7 ' Ye 're young amo your mirth, kind sir, 

And fair o your dull hours ; 

There 's nae a lady in a' London 
But might be your paramour. 

8 ( But I 'm too young to wed, kind sir, 

You must not take it ill ; 
Whatever my father bids me do, 
I maun be at his will.' 

9 He kissd her then and took his leave, 

His heart was all in pride, 
And he is on to Windsor gone, 
And his boy by his side. 

10 And when he unto Windsor came, 

And lighted on the green, 

There he spied his mother dear, 

Was walking there alane. 

11 * Where have ye been, my son, Ronald, 

From gude school-house, this day ? ' 
' I hae been at Linne, mother, 
Seeing yon bonny may.' 

12 ' O wae 's me for you now, Ronald, 

For she will not you hae ; 
For mony a knight and bauld baron 
She 's nickd them a' wi nae.' 

13 Young Ronald 's done him to his bower, 

And he took bed and lay ; 
Nae woman could come in his sight, 
For the thoughts o this well-fard may. 



14 Then in it came his father dear, 

Well belted in a brand ; 
The tears ran frae his twa gray eyes, 
All for his lovely son. 

15 Then Ronald oalld his stable-groom 

To come right speedilie ; 
Says, Ye '11 gang to yon stable, boy, 
And saddle a steed for me. 

16 * His saddle o the guid red gowd, 

His bits be o the steel, 
His bridle o a glittering hue ; 
See that ye saddle him weel. 

17 * For I 've heard greeters at your school-house, 

Near thirty in a day ; 
But for to hear an auld man greet, 
It passes bairns' play/ 

18 When cocks did craw, and day did daw, 

And mint in meadows sprang, 
Young Ronald and his little wee boy 
The way they rode alang. 

19 So they rode on, and further on, 

To yonder pleasant green, 
And there they saw that lady fair, 
In her garden alane. 

20 And twenty times before he ceasd 

He kissd her lips sae clear, 
And said, Dear lady, for your sake, 
I '11 fight fell lang and sair. 

21 ' Full haste, nae speed, for me, kind sir/ 

Replied the lady clear ; 
' Far better buddings ye maun bide 
Or ye gain my love by weir. 

22 ' King Honour is my father's name, 

The morn to war maun fare, 
And that 's to fight a proud giant, 
That 's wrought him muckle care. 

23 ( Along wi bun he is to take 

Baith noble knights and squires ; 
I woud wish you as well-dressd a knight 
As ony will be there. 

24 ' And I '11 gie you a thousand crowns, 

To part amang your men ; 
A robe upon your ain body, 
Weel sewd wi my ain hand. 

25 ' Likewise a ring, a royal thing, 

The virtue it is gude ; 
If ony o your men be hurt, 
It soon will stem their blude. 

26 ' Another ring, a royal thing, 

Whose virtue is well known ; 
As lang 's this ring your body 's on, 
Your bluid shall neer be drawn.' 

27 He kissd her then, and took his leave, 

His heart was all in pride, 
And he is on to Windsor gone, 
And his boy by his side. 

28 And when he unto Windsor came, 

And lighted on the green, 
There he saw his auld father, 
Was walking him alane. 

29 ' Where hae ye been, my son, Ronald, 

From gude school-house the day ? ' 
' I hae been at Linne, father, 
Seeking yon bonny may.' 

30 ' wae 's me for you now, Ronald, 

For she will not you hae ; 
Mony a knight and bauld baron 
She 's nickd them a' wi nay.' 

31 ' had your tongue, my father dear, 

Lat a' your folly be ; 
The last words that I wi her spake, 
Her love was granted me. 

32 ' King Honour is her father's name, 

The morn to war maun fare, 
And that 's to fight a proud giant, 
That 's wrought him muckle care. 

33 ' Alang wi him he means to take 

Baith knights and noble squires ; 
And she wishes me as well drest a knight 
As ony will be there. 

34 ' And she 's gaen me a thousand crowns, 

To part amang my men ; 
A robe upon my ain body, 
Weel sewd wi her ain hand. 

35 ' Likewise a ring, a royal thing, 

The virtue it is gude ; 
If ony o my men be hurt, 
It soon will stem their blude. 



36 * Another ring, a royal thing, 

Whose virtue ia unknown ; 
As lang 's this ring my body 's on, 
My blude will neer he drawn/ 

37 * If that he true, my son, Ronald, 

That ye hae tauld to me, 
I '11 gie to you an hundred men, 
To hear you companie. 

38 ' Besides as muckle glide harness 

As carry them on the lee ; 
It is a company gude enough 
For sic a squire as thee.* 

39 When cocks did craw, and day did daw, 

And mint in meadows spread, 
Young Ronald and his merry young men 
Were ready for to ride. 

40 So they rode on, and farther on, 

To yonder pleasant green, 
And there they spied that lady fair, 
In her garden, sair mourning. 

41 These twa together lang they stood, 

And love's tale there they taul, 
Till her father and his merry young men 
Had ridden seven mile. 

42 He kissd her then, and took his leave, 

His heart was all in pride, 
And then he sprang alang the road 
As sparks do frae the gleed. 

43 Then to his great steed he set spur ; 

He being swift o feet, 

They soon arrived on the plain, 
Where all the rest did meet. 

44 Then flew the foul thief frae the west, 

His make was never seen ; 
He had three heads upon ae hause, 
Three heads on ae breast-bane. 

45 He bauldly stept up to the king, 

Seiz'd 's steed in his right hand ; 
Says, Here I am, a valiant man, 
Fight me now if ye can. 

46 * Where is the man in a* my train 

Will take this deed in hand ? 
And he shall hae my daughter dear, 
And third part o my land/ 

47 * O here am I,' said young Ronald, 

< Will take the deed in hand ; 
And ye '11 gie me your daughter dear, 
I '11 seek nane o your land/ 

48 ' I woudna for my life, Ronald, 

This day I left you here ; 
Remember ye yon lady gay 
For you shed mony a tear/ 

49 Fan he did mind on that lady 

That he left him behind, 

He haclna mair fear to fight 

Nor a lion frae a chain. 

50 Then he cut aff the giant's heads 

Wi ae sweep o his hand, 
Gaed hame and married that lady, 
And heird her father's land. 

5 . collar. 

5*. one for own. 

14 s . and a. 

26. ring 's : ef. 36". 
33 1 . I mean : cf. 23 l . 
36 9 . Which : cf. 26 8 . 




A. a. The Sang of the Outlaw Murray,' Herd's 
MSS, II, fol. 76 ; The Outlaw Murray/ I, 255. 
b. ' The Sang of the Outlaw Murray,' Scott's Min- 
strelsy, second edition, 1803, I, 1. o. * The Song of 
the Outlaw Murray,' Aytoun's Ballads of Scotland, 
1859, II, 131, " from an old manuscript in the Philip- 
haugh charter-chest." d. < The Sang of the Outlaw 
Murray,' the copy now extant among the Philiphaugh 

B. ' An old song called Outlaw Murray/ Glenriddell 
MSS, XI, 61, 1791. 

C. ( Outlaw Murray, an antient historical ballad/ frag- 
ments, " Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Min- 
strelsy," No SI, Abbotsford, in the handwriting of 
William Laidlaw. 

FIRST printed in Scott's Minstrelsy, 1802, 


A a, b, o (disregarding Scott's interpo- 
lations in b), do not differ more than tran- 
scripts of one original may be expected to do, 
remembering that copyists are apt to indulge 
in trivial verbal improvements.* a was sent 
David Herd, with a letter dated January 12, 
1795, by Andrew Plummer, Sheriff-Depute 
of Selkirk, as received by carrier from a lady, 
wbo neglected to impart how she came by the 
copy. In this instance, contrary to what I 
believe to be the general rule, the second vol- 
ume of Herd's MSS seems to have the origi- 
nal text.f a was printed, but not with abso- 
lute fidelity, by Mnidment, Scotish Ballads 
and Songs, 1868, II, 66. For b, " the copy 
principally resorted to," says Scott, "is one, 
apparently of considerable antiquity, which 
was found among the papers of the late Mrs 
Cockburn of Edinburgh." Scott made oc- 
casional use of Herd's MS. and of Glenrid- 

* That the four copies of a are transcripts from writing, 
and not from oral recitation, will be obvious when we ob- 
serve their correspondence. The first thirty stanzas of a, b, 
have the same lines in the same order, and with an approach 
to verbal agreement. There is not so close a concurrence 
after 30, but still a virtual concurrence, excepting that b 
inserts sixteen lines between 52 and 53 which the other 
copies lack, o has throughout the same lines as a, in the 
same order (with verbal differences), excepting that c in- 
troduces two lines after 50* (which are a repetition, with 
corruption, of 8*' 2 ),and that a repeats 43 at 60, which c does 
not. d has only a few verbal variations from c. 

t Plummer's letter follows the ballad in the second vol- 
ume, but is not given in the first. 

t Rather 1708. Sir James Murray was appointed an or- 
VOL v 24 

dell's, inserted some stanzas which he had 
received from Sheriff Plummer, and in the 
second edition (otherwise slightly altered) 
two stanzas from the recitation of Mungo 
Park. Mrs Cockburn's MS. evidently agreed 
very nearly with the copy in Herd, so far as 
the latter goes. I much regret that exer- 
tions made to secure the Cockburn MS. did 
not result successfully, o. " From a note ap- 
pended to the ballad, explanatory of its cir- 
cumstances, in which reference is made to 
Lord Philiphaugh (a judge of Session) as 
being then alive," says Aytoun, ** the manu- 
script must have been written between the 
years 1689 and 1702." J The original man- 
uscript, unfortunately and inexplicably, is no 
longer in the Philiphaugh archives, and has 
not come to light after search. The text, if 
earlier transcribed, shows no internal evidence 
of superior age, and exhibits several inferior 
readings, two that are highly objectionable. 
d, the copy actually preserved among the 

dinary Lord of Session October 28, 1689, and took his seat 
as Lord Philiphaugh November 1. In 1702 he was ap- 
pointed Lord Clerk Register, and this place he held, except 
a short interval, till his death, July 1, 1708. (T. Craig- 
Brown, History of Selkiikshire. II, 345 f ) 

I mean Soldan Turk, o 22 8 , for Soudron, a, b, d, 
and Soldanie, c S3 7 , for Soudronie, Southronie. a, b. 
(Soudan Turk, alsoB 26 s , Souden Turk, C 3 8 , 5* ) Nothing 
is easier than the corruption of Soudron into Soudan, upon 
which change the addition of Turk would be all but inevi- 
table. The corruption would be likely to be made by one who 
had heard of an irruption of Saracens (or, if you please, 
Moore) into Galloway. (See note, p 190 ) The winning of 
Ettrick Forest by and from the Southron 'IB historical, and 
this pretends to be an historical poem. 



Philiphaugh papers, is evinced by a water- 
mark to be not older than 1848. It shows 
variations from Aytoun's printed text which 
cannot be other than wilful alterations. 

B, which is both defective, corrupted, and 
chargeable with flat repetition, and C, a few 
fragmentary verses, are all that have been re- 
trieved from tradition, although Scott says 
that the ballad " has been for ages a popular 
song in Selkirkshire." 

A manuscript copy was understood to be 
in possession of the late Mr George Wilson, 
S. S. C., Edinburgh, but, as in the case of 
the original of the Philiphaugh MS. and in 
that of Mrs Cockburn's copy, inquiry and 
search were fruitless. 

The king of Scotland is informed that 
there is an Outlaw in Ettrick Forest who 
makes no account of him ; the king vows 
that he will be king of Ettrick Forest, or 
the Outlaw shall be king of Scotland. Earl 
Hamilton advises that an envoy be sent to 
the Outlaw to ascertain whether he is willing 
to do homage to the king and hold the forest 
of him ; if the Outlaw should refuse, then 
they will proceed to extremities with him. 
The king sends Boyd, Earl of Arran, to an- 
nounce his terms : the Outlaw is to do hom- 
age ; otherwise he and his lands will be sub- 
jugated, his castle levelled, his wife made a 
widow, and his men be hanged. The mes- 
senger demands of the Outlaw, in the king's 
name, of whom he holds his lands ; the Out- 
law replies that the lands are his own, won 
by himself from the Southron, and that he 
recognizes no king in Christendom. The mes- 
senger intimates that it will nevertheless be 
necessary for the Outlaw to do homage to the 
king of Scotland, under the penalties before 
mentioned. Many of the king's nobles shall 
lie cold first, he replies. Boyd reports to 
his master that the Outlaw claims to hold 
the forest by his own right, which he will 
maintain against all kings in Christendom; 
the king prepares to enforce his sovereignty 
with five thousand men. 

The Outlaw vows that the king shall pay 
dear for his coming, and sends for succor to 
three of his kinsmen, all of whom promise 

help. As the king approaches the forest, 
Hamilton ventures to give further advice: 
that the Outlaw should be summoned to come 
with four of his best men to meet the king 
and five earls; fire, sword, and forfeiture to 
follow upon refusal. The Outlaw bethinks 
himself of his children, and complies. He 
and his company fall on their knees and im- 
plore the king's mercy; his mercy shall be 
the gallows, says the king. The Outlaw pro- 
tests again that he won his lands from the 
enemy, and as he won them so will he keep 
them, against all kings in Christendom ; but 
having indulged in this vaunt asks mercy 
again, and offers to give up the keys of his 
castle if the king will constitute him and his 
successors sheriffs of tbe forest. The king, 
on his part, is equally ready for a compro- 
mise. The Outlaw, on surrendering the keys 
of his castle, shall be made sheriff of Ettrick 
Forest, and shall never be forfeited as long as 
he continues loyal, and his men shall have 
pardon if they amend their lives. After all 
the strong language on both sides, the Outlaw 
has only to name his lands (but gives a very 
imperfect list), and the king (waiving com- 
plete particulars) renders him whatever he 
is pleased to claim, and makes him sheriff 
of Ettrick Forest while upwards grows the 

So far all the copies of A concur, as to the 
story, except that o 22, 33, by an absurd 
corruption, makes the Outlaw to have won 
his lands, not from the Soudron, the Sou- 
dronie, but from Soldan Turk, the Soldanie ; 
in which respect A o is followed by B 26, O 
3, 5. Between 52 and 53, b introduces this 
passage : 

Then spak the kene laird of Buckscleuth, 
A stalworthye man and sterne was he : 

1 For a king to gang an outlaw till 
Is beneath his state and his dignitie. 

' The man that wons yon f oreste intill, 

He lives by reif and felonie ; 
Wherefore, brayd on, my sovereign liege, 

Wi fire and sword we 11 follow thee, 
Or, gif your courtrie lords fa back, 

Our borderers sail the onset gie.' 



Then oat and spak the nohil king, 
And round him cast a wilie ee : 

< Now haud thy tongue. Sir Walter Scott, 
Nor speik of reif nor felonie, 

For had everye honeste man his awin kye, 
A right puir clan thy name wad be.' * 

B represents that the king, after appoint- 
ing a meeting with the Outlaw ' in number 
not above two or three,' comes with a com- 
pany of three hundred, which violation of 
the mutual understanding naturally leads the 
Outlaw to expect treachery. The king, how- 
ever, not only proceeds in good faith, but, 
without any stipulations, at once makes the 
Outlaw laird of the Forest. 

From the note, otherwise of no value, 
which accompanies the Philiphaugh MS., it 
is clear that the ballad was known before 
1700 ; how much earlier it is to be put we 
can neither ascertain nor safely conjecture, 
but we may say that there is nothing in the 
language of the piece as it stands which 
obliges us to assign it a much higher an- 
tiquity, f 

As to James Murray, laird of Traquair, 
whose lands the king had gifted lang syne, 
A 45 s , 48 1 , Sheriff Plummer remarks in Herd's 
MS.: "Willielmus de Moravia had forfeited 
the lands of ( trakware ' ante annum 1464. 
As of that date I have a charter of these 
lands, proceeding upon his forfeiture, granted 
Willieimo Douglas de Cluny." Thomas Boyd 
was created Earl of Arran after his marriage 
with the eldest sister of James III, 1467. 
The Earl of Hamilton is mentioned A 7 1 , 50 1 . 
Sheriff Plummer observes that there was an 
earl of that surname till 1508. 

Scott, in his preface in the Border Min- 
strelsy, after professing himself unable to as- 
certain the foundation of the tale, goes on to 
state the following historical possibilities : 

* " The fend betwixt the Outlaw and the Scots may 
serve to explain the asperity with which the chieftain of 
that clan is handled in the ballad." Were it not for these 
words in Scott's preface, I should have been inclined to 
think that this humorous episode came from the hand of 
the editor of ' Kinmont Willie. 1 It is quite in Scott's way, 
and also in contrast with the tone of the rest of the narra- 
tive. If the author of the ballad was capable of this smart- 
ness, he onght to hare been aware that the Outlaw (not to 
say the king), after all his bluster, cnts a ridiculously tame 

" This ballad . . . commemorates a trans- 
action supposed to have taken place betwixt 
a Scottish monarch and an ancestor of the 
ancient family of Murray of Philiphaugh in 
Selkirkshire. ... It is certain that during 
the civil wars betwixt Bruce and Baliol the 
family of Philiphaugh existed and was pow- 
erful, for their ancestor, Archibald de Mora- 
via, subscribes the oath of fealty to Edward 
I, A. D. 1296. It is therefore not unlikely 
that, residing in a wild and frontier country, 
they may have, at one period or other during 
these commotions, refused allegiance to the 
feeble monarch of the day, and thus extorted 
from him some grant of territory or jurisdic- 
tion. It is also certain that, by a charter 
from James IV, dated November 80, 1509, 
John Murray of Philiphaugh is vested with 
the dignity of heritable Sheriff of Ettrick 
Forest, an office held by his descendants till 
the final abolition of such jurisdictions by 
28th George II, cap. 23. But it seems diffi- 
cult to believe that the circumstances men- 
tioned in the ballad could occur under the 
reign of so vigorous a monarch as James IV. 
It is true that the dramatis personce intro- 
duced seem to refer to the end of the fif- 
teenth or beginning of the sixteenth century ; 
but from this it can only be argued that the 
author himself lived soon after that period. 
It may therefore be supposed (unless fur- 
ther evidence can be produced tending to 
invalidate the conclusion) that the bard, will- 
ing to pay his court to the family, has con- 
nected his grant of the sheriffship by James 
IV with some former dispute betwixt the 
Murrays of Philiphaugh and their sovereign, 
occurring either while they were engaged 
upon the side of Baliol, or in the subsequent 
reigns of David II and Robert II and III, when 
the English possessed great part of the Scot- 
figure in the conclusion I now observe that the line ' Wl 
fire and sword we '11 follow thee ' is in A a, 52 s , and nearly 
the same in o; which suggests that something may hare 
been lost in the MS. 

t A 22 s * 4 might be a reminiscence of 'Johnie Arm- 
strong/ C 27M, in, 371. C 8*>* (from recitation) agrees 
strikingly with the stanza cited III, 363, note ; but this fact 
is of not the least importance. Mr Macmath notes that A 
a 1*, * The hart, the hynd, the dae, the rae,' occurs in Alex- 
ander Montgomerie'sCherrio and the Slae^Edinbnrgh, 1597. 



tish frontier, and the rest was in so lawless 
a state as hardly to acknowledge any supe- 

" At the same time, this reasoning is not 
absolutely conclusive. James IV had partic- 
ular reasons for desiring that Ettrick Forest, 
which actually formed part of the jointure- 
lands of Margaret, his queen, should be kept 
in a state of tranquillity: Rymer, vol. xiii, 
p. 66. In order to accomplish this object, it 
was natural for him, according to the policy 
of his predecessors., to invest one great fam- 
ily with the power of keeping order among 
the rest. It is even probable that the Phil- 
iphaugh family may have had claims upon 
part of the lordship of Ettrick Forest, which 
lay intermingled with their own extensive 
possessions, and in the course of arranging, 
not, indeed, the feudal superiority, but the 
property of these lands, a dispute may have 
arisen of sufficient importance to be the 
groundwork of a ballad. 

44 It is farther probable that the Murray s, 
like other Border clans, were in a very lawless 
state, and held their lands merely by occu- 
pancy, without any feudal right. Indeed, the 
lands of the various proprietors in Ettrick For- 
est (being a royal demesne) were held by the 
possessors, not in property, but as the kindly 
tenants, or rentallers, of the crown. . . . This 
state of possession naturally led to a confusion 
of rights and claims. The kings of Scotland 
were often reduced to the humiliating neces- 
sity of compromising such matters with their 
rebellious subjects, and James himself even 
entered into a sort of league with Johnnie Faa, 
the king of the gypsies. Perhaps, therefore, 
the tradition handed down in this way may 
have had more foundation than it would at 
present be proper positively to assert." 

In the way of comment upon these sur- 
mises of Scott, which proceed mainly upon what 
we do not know, it may be alleged that we 
have a fairly good record of the relations of 
Selkirkshire to the Scottish crown during the 

* Mr David MacRitrhie, in his very interesting Ancient 
and Modern Britons, a book full of novel matter and views, 
accepts the ballad as " partly true," apparently to the ex- 
tent " thHt this ' outlaw ' WAS as yet an actual, independent 
king, and that modern Selkirkshire was not a part of Scot- 

fourteenth century, when this district was so 
often changing bands between the English 
and the Scotch, and that there is no indica- 
tion of any Murray having been concerned in 
winning it from the Southron, as is pre- 
tended in the ballad, either then or at any 
time, so that this part of the story may be 
set down as pure invention.* Hardly less fic- 
titious seems to be the dispute between the 
Scottish king and a Murray, in relation to 
the tenure. The Murrays first became con- 
nected with Selkirkshire in 1461. John de 
Moravia then acquired the lands of Philip- 
haugh, and was afterwards appointed Gustos 
of Newark Castle, and came into possession 
of Hangingshaw and Lewinshope. All of 
these are attributed to the Outlaw in the bal- 
lad. This John Murray was a contemporary 
of Boyd, Earl of Arran, and of the forfeited 
Murray of Traquair, but, with all this, nobody 
has pitched upon him for the Outlaw ; and it 
would not have been a happy idea, for he was 
on perfectly good terms, and even in great 
favor, with the court under James III. His 
grandson, John Murray, was in equal or 
greater favor with James IV, and WHS made 
hereditary Sheriff of Selkirk in 1509, and 
for this last reason has been proposed for the 
Outlaw, though " nothing could be more im- 
probable than that this orderly, ' circumspect,' 
and law-enforcing officer of the crown should 
ever take up an attitude of rebellious defi- 
ance so diametrically opposed to all we really 
know of his character and conduct." f 

Scott thought that light might be thrown 
upon the history of the ballad by the Philip- 
haugh family papers. Mr Craig-Brown gave 
them the accurate examination which Scott 
suggested, and came to the same conclusion 
as Aytoun, that the story told in the ballad 
is, if not altogether fictitious, at least greatly 
exaggerated. He is inclined to think that 
" some clue to the date of the ballad lies in 
the minstrel's animus against the house of 
Buccleuch" (shown only in A b). "James 

land . " and this whether the king of Scotland was James 
IV or an earlier monarch, II, 136-139. This is pitting 
the ballad against history. 
t Craig-Brown, II, 336-838. 



Murray, tenth laird," he says, "is the last 
mentioned in the family MSS as possessor of 
Newark, which castle passed into the hands of 
Buccleuch either in his lifetime or that of his 
successor, Patrick Murray. After the death 
of James IV at Flodden, the Queen-Regent 
complained loudly of Buccleuch's encroach- 
ment upon her dowry lands of Ettrick For- 
est, the Custos of which domain had Newark 
for a residence. Buccleuch continued to keep 
his hold, and, as he could only do so by dis- 
placing Murray, the ill-will of the latter fam- 
ily was a natural consequence. By way of 
showing the earlier and superior title of the 
Murrays, the ballad-writer has either in- 
vented the story in toto, or has amplified the 
tradition of an actual visit paid to a former 
Murray by the king. Both Sir Walter Scott 
and the compiler of the Family Records are 
of opinion that John Murray, eighth laird, is 
the presumptive Outlaw of the song; and, as 
he was undoubtedly in great favor with King 
James IV, nothing is more likely than that 
the young monarch may have ended one of 
his hunting-expeditions to the Forest by con- 
firming John in his hereditary sheriffship, 
interrupted for a few years by the appoint- 
ment of Lord Home. As a matter of fact, 
John Murray did in 1509 obtain a royal 
charter from his sovereign, of the sheriffship ; 
but, as the office had been vacant since 1506, 
there is nothing improbable in the supposi- 
tion that he had already claimed the family 
rights and taken possession of the castle. 
Indeed, in 1503, he acted as sheriff at the 
queen's infeftment in her dowry-lands of 
Ettrick Forest. It would have been in thor- 
ough keeping with all that is known of 
James IV if his Majesty had taken the op- 
portunity to give his favorite a half-jesting 
reproof for his presumption; but that Mur- 
ray was ever seriously outlawed is out of the 

* History of Selkirkshire, II, 355-357 , see also p. 338. 

t An account varying as to the place where the Outlaw 
was Blain opeciftes Scott of Haining as the author of his 
death. John Murray, the Sheriff, was killed in 1510, and 
Andrew Ker and Thomas Scot were charged with the act, 
traditionally put to the account of Buccleuch and his clan, 
and, in particular, of Scott of Raining. (Craig-Brown, II, 

question. His king heaped honors on him; 
and only eighty years after his death his de- 
scendant obtained a feudal precept of his 
lands for gratuitous services rendered to the 
crown by his family, ' without default at any 
time in their due obedience as became faith- 
ful subjects.' So that, granted a royal pro- 
gress to Newark, followed by Murray's inves- 
titure with the sheriffship, the poet remains 
chargeable with considerable embellishment. 
A glorification of the family of Philiphaugh 
and a sneer at the rapacity of Buccleuch are 
the evident motives of his rhyme." * 

u The tradition of Ettrick Forest," says 
Scott, Minstrelsy, 2d ed., 1803, I, 4, "bears 
that the Outlaw was a man of prodigious 
strength, possessing a batton or club with 
which he laid lee (i. e. waste) the country 
for many miles round, and that he was at 
length slain by Buccleuch or some of his 
clan." f This account is not in keeping with 
the conception of the Outlaw given by the 
ballad, but indicates the ferocious robber 
and murderer, the Cacus of popular story, of 
whom no doubt the world was actually once 
very guilty, and of whom there are many 
specimens in British tradition as elsewhere.J 
As such he seems to turn up again in Gallo- 
way, where he haunts a forest of Kirkcud- 
brightshire, called the Black Morrow wood, 
from which he sallies out "in the neighbor- 
ing country at night, committing horrible 
outrages." Of this personage, Mactaggart, 
in his Gallovidian Encyclopedia, p. 73, says : 

" Tradition has him a Blackimore, . . . but 
my opinion is that he was no Blackimore; 
he never saw Africa; his name must have 
been Murray, and as he must have been, 
too, an outlaw and a bloody man, gloomy 
with foul crimes, Black prefaced it, as it 
did Black Douglass, and that of others; so 
he became Black Murray." And he adds 

I See Mr MacKitchie's Ancient and Modern Britons, I, 
156 ff, 136 if , for these monsters, often described as black, 
m which sense, it is maintained, Murray (Morrow, Moor) 
is frequently to be understood. 

More of this Murray in Historical and Traditional 
Tales, Kirkcudbright, 1843, p 1112. 



that this pest was disposed of by the people 
pouring a barrel of spirits into a spring one 
night when he was out on his rambles, whereof 
drinking the next day, he was made drunk 
and fell asleep, in which condition his foes 
dirked him ; or according to others, one of 
the McLellans of Kirkcudbright took to the 
wood single-handed, found the outlaw sleep- 
ing, and drove a dirk through his head, whence 
the head on the dagger in the McLellans' coat 
of arms.* 

2. The castle, says Scott, is supposed by 
the common people to have been the castle of 
Newark ; but " this is highly improbable, be- 
cause Newark was always a royal fortress." 
The only important point, however, would 
seem to be who was the keeper of the castle. 
The Douglasses are spoken of as holding it 
from about 1326 to 1455 ; John de Moravia 
was Gustos after 1462. The Outlaw's five 
hundred men are shooting on Newark lee in 
A b 18 4 , and Newark lee is twice mentioned 
elsewhere in that copy. Sheriff Plummer in 
his letter to Herd says : This I take to be 
the castle of New-wark, on the west end of 
which are the arms of Scotland supported by 
two unicorns. But in Scott's preface we are 
told that Sheriff Plummer has assured the 
editor that he remembered the insignia of 
the unicorns, etc., so often mentioned in the 
ballad, in existence upon the old tower at 
Hangingshaw. Whether the etc. covers the 
picture of the knight and the lady bright, 
and Sheriff Plummer had therefore changed 
his opinion, does not appear. 

* " Sometimes it [the crest] represents some valiant act 
done by the bearer ; thus McClelland of Bombie did, and 
now Lord Kirkcudbright does, bear a naked arm support- 
ing on the point of a sword a More's head, because, Bombie 
being forfeited, his son killed a More who came in with 
some Sarazens to infest Galloway, to the killer of whom the 
king had promised the forfeiture of Bombie, and thereupon 
he was restored to his father's land " Sir George Macken- 
zie, The Science of Herauldry, 1680, p. 90 (This reference 

15 8 . " Birkendale brae, now commonly 
called Birkendailly [see O 2 1 ], is a steep 
descent at the south side of Minchmoor, 
which separates Tweed-dale from tfre Forest, 
at the top of which you come first in sight 
of New-wark Castle." Plummer's letter to 

19. Mr MacRitchie, II, 141 ff., considers 
that the Lincoln green dresses of the Out- 
law's men, and perhaps the purple of the 
Outlaw and his wife, show that they were 
"gypsies," not perhaps of a swarthy color, 
but still people " living a certain archaic 
4 heathen ' life," at any rate a " wild and law- 
less life," and " refusing to follow the course 
of civilization." This inference from the cos- 
tume seems to be not quite necessary, unless, 
or even if, all outlaws are " gypsies." Robin 
Hood, in ' Robin Hood and Queen Rather- 
ine,' is dressed in scarlet red, and his men 
in Lincoln green (III, 199, 201). But green 
is the regular attire for men who shoot with 
the bow, III, 76 f., 91. Johnie Cock, when 
going out to ding the dan deer down, puts on 
Lincoln green, III, 3 ff. Will Stewart, even, 
when only going to a ball-match, clothes his 
men in green, and himself in scarlet red, II, 
434, 437. 

51. " Penman's core, generally called Per- 
man's core [Permanscore in Scott, ed. 1833], 
is a nick or hollow on the top of a high ridge 
of hills a little to the east of Minchmoor." 
Plummer, as before. In B 50, poor man's 
house ; 52, poor man's score.f 

and those to Mactaggart and the Kirkcudbright Tales 
were given me by Mr W Macmath in 1883 ) 

t That it was not originally intended to insert ' The Out- 
law Murray ' in this collection will be apparent from the posi- 
tion which it occupies. I am convinced that it did not be- 
gin its existence as a popular ballad, and I am not convinced 
that (as Scott asserts) " it has been for ages a popular song 
in Selkirkshire." But the "song " gained a place in oral 
tradition, as we see from B, C, and I prefer to err by includ- 
ing rather than by excluding. 



a. Herd's MSS, II, fol. 76, I, 255, 1795. b. Minstrelsy 
of the Scottish Border, 1803, 1, 1 ; principally from a copy 
found among the papers of the late Mrs Cockbarn, of 
Edinburgh. O. Aytoun's Ballads of Scotland, 1859, II, 
131 ; " from an old manuscript in the Philiphaugh charter- 
chest," now not accessible, d A copy among the Philip- 
haugh papers, transcribed not earlier than 1848. 

1 ETRICK FOREST is a fair foreste, 

In it grows manie a semelie trie ; 
The hart, the hynd, the dae, the rae, 
And of a' [wylde] beastis grete plentie. 

2 There 's a castell biggit with lime and stane, 

O gin it stands not pleasantlie ! 
In the fore front o that castell fair 
Twa unicorns are bra to see. 

3 There 's the picture of a knight and a ladye 


And the grene hollin aboon their brie ; 
There an Outlaw keepis five hundred men, 
He keepis a royalle coinpanie. 

4 His merrie men are in [ae] liverie clad, 

Of the Lincoln grene so fair to see ; 
He and his ladie in purple clad, 
O if they live not royallie ! 

5 Word is gane to our nobell king, 

In Edinburgh where that he lay, 
That there was an Outlaw in Etterick forest 
Counted him nought and all his courtrie gay. 

6 * I mak a vowe,' then the goode king said, 

k Unto the man that dear bought me, 
I 'se either be king of Etrick forest, 
Or king of Scotland that Outlaw 's bee.' 

7 Then spak the erle hight Hamilton, 

And to the noble king said he ; 
My sovereign prince, sum counsell tak, 
First of your nobles, syne of me. 

8 * I redd you send yon bra Outlaw till 

And see gif your man cum will he ; 
Desire him cum and be your man, 
And hald of you yon forest f rie. 

9 ( And gif he refuses to do that, 

We 11 conquess both his lands and he, 
Or else we 11 throw his castell down, 
And mak a widowe of his gaye ladie.' 

10 The king called on a gentleman, 

James Boyd, Erie of Arran, his brother was 


When James he came before the king 
He fell before him on his knie. 

11 ' Welcum, James Boyd/ said our nobil king, 

' A message ye maun gang for me ; 
Ye maun hie to Etrick forrest, 

To yon Outlaw, where dwelleth he. 

12 ' Ask hym of quhom he haldis his lands, 

Or, man, wha may his master be ; 
Desyre him come and be my man, 
And hald of me yon forrest f rie. 

13 .' To Edinburgh to cum and gang 

His safe-warrand I sail be ; 
And, gif he refuses to do that, 

We '11 conquess baith his lands and he. 

14 * Thou mayst vow I '11 cast his castell doun, 

And mak a widow of his gay ladie ; 

I '11 hang his merrie men pair by pair 

In ony frith where I may them see/ 

15 James Boyd took his leave of the nobill 


To Etrick forrest fair came he ; 
Down Birkendale brae when that he cam, 
He saw the fair forest with his ee. 

16 Baith dae and rae and hart and hynd, 

And of all wylde beastis grete plentie ; 
He heard the bows that bauldly ring, 
And arrows whidderand near him by. 

17 Of the fair castell he got a sight, 

The like he nere saw with his ee ; 
On the fore front of that castell 
Twa unicorns were bra to see. 

18 The picture of a knight and a ladie bright, 

And the grene hollin aboon their brie ; 
Thereat he spy'd five hundred men, 
Shuting with bows upon the lee. 

19 They a* were in ae liverie clad, 

Of the Lincoln grene, sae fair to see ; 
The knight and his ladye in purple clad ; 

gif they lived right royallie ! 
Therefore he kend he was master-man, 

And served him in his ain degree* 



20 ' God mot thee save, brave Outlaw Murray, 

Thy ladie and a' thy chivalrie ! ' 
' Marry, thou 's wellcum, gentleman, 
Sum king's-messenger thou seems to be.' 

21 ' The King of Scotland sent me hier, 

And, gude Outlaw, I 'rn sent to thee ; 
I wad wat of whom ye hald your lands, 
Or, man, wha may thy master be." 

22 ' Thir landis are mine,' the Outlaw said, 

4 I own na king in Christentie ; 
Frae Soudron I this forest wan, 

When the king nor 's knights were not to 

23 ' He desires you '1 come to Edinburgh, 

And hald of him this forest frie ; 
And gif you refuse to do this, 

He '11 conqucss both thy landis and thee ; 
He has vowd to cast thy castell down, 

And make a widow of thy gaye ladie. 

24 * He '11 hang thy merrie men pair by pair, 

In ony frith where he may them finde ; ' 
' Aye, by my troth,' the Outlaw said, 
4 Then wad I think me far behinde. 

25 ' Eere the king my fair countrie get, 

This land that 's nativest to me, 
Mony of his nobils sail be cauld, 
Their ladies sail be right wearie.' 

26 Then spak his ladye fair of face, 

She said, Without consent of me 
That an outlaw shulcl come before the king : 
I am right rad of treasonrie. 

27 ' Bid him be gude to his lordis at hame, 

For Edinburgh my lord sail never see : ' 
James tuke his leave of the Outlaw keene, 
To Edinburgh boun is he. 

28 And when he came before the king, 

He fell before him on his knie : 
* Wellcum, James Boyd,' said the nobil king, 
< What foreste is Etrick forest frie ? ' 

29 < Etrick forest is the fairest forest 

That ever man saw with his ee ; 
There's the dae, the rae, the hart, the 

And of all wild beastie great plentie. 

30 ' There 's a prittie castell of lime and stone, 

gif it stands not pleasauntlie ! 
There 's on the fore side of that castell 
Twa unicorns sae bra to see. 

31 ( There 's the picture of a knight and [a] ladie 


And the grene hollin aboon their brie ; 
There the Outlaw keepis five hundred men, 
O gif they live not royallie ! 

32 ' His merry men in [ae] liverie clad, 

the Lincoln grene, so fair to see ; 
He and his ladye in purple clad, 
O gif they live not royallie ! 

33 ' He says yon forest is his ain, 

He wan it from the Soudronie ; 
Sae as he won it, sae will he keep it, 
Contrair all kings in Christentie.' 

34 ' Gar ray my horse,' said the nobil king, 

* To Etrick [forest] hie will I me ; ' 
Then he gard graith five thousand men, 

And sent them on for the forest frie. 

35 Then word is gane the Outlaw till, 

In Etrick forest where dwelleth he, 

That the king was cumand to his cuntrie, 

To conquess baith his lands and he. 

36 ' I mak a vow,' the Outlaw said, 

* I mak a vow, and that trulie, 

Were there but three men to tak my part, 
Yon king's cuming full deir suld be.' 

37 Then messengers he called forth, 

And bade them haste them speedilie : 
* Ane of you go to Halliday, 
The laird of the Corehead is he. 

38 * He certain is my sister's son, 

Bid him cum quick and succour me ; 
Tell Halliday with thee to cum, 
And shaw him a' the veritie.' 

39 ' What news ? what news,' said Halliday, 

' Man, f rae thy master unto me ? ' 
' Not as ye wad ; seeking your aid ; 
The king 's his mortal enemie.' 

40 ' Aye, by my troth,' quoth Halliday, 

' Even for that it repenteth me ; 



For, gif he lose fair Ettrick forest, 
He '11 take fair Moffatdale frae me. 

41 ' I '11 meet him wi five hundred men, 

And surely mae, if inae may be : ' 
[The Outlaw calld a messenger, 
And bid him hie him speedily.] 

42 * To Andrew Murray of Cockpool, 

That man 's a deir cousin to me ; 
Desire him cum and make me aid, 
With all the power that he may be. 

43 ' The king has vowd to cast my castell down, 

And mak a widow of my gay ladye ; 
He '11 hang my merry men pair by pair 
I[n] ony place where he may them see.' 

44 ' It stands me hard,' quoth Andrew Murray, 

* Judge if it stands not hard with me, 
To enter against a king with crown, 

And put my lands in jeopardie. 

46 ' Yet, gif I cum not on the daye, 

Surelie at night he sail me see . ' 
To Sir James Murray, laird of Traquair, 
A message came right speedilie. 

46 ' What news ? what news,' James Murray said, 

* Man, frae thy master unto me ? ' 
* What needs I tell ? for well ye ken 

The king 's his mortal enemie. 

47 ' He desires ye '11 cum and make him aid, 

With all the powers that ye may be . ' 
' And, by my troth,' James Murray said, 
' With that Outlaw I '11 live and die. 

48 * The king has gifted my lands lang syne, 

It can not be nae war with me ; ' 

49 The king was cnmand thro Cadden ford, 

And fiftene thousand men was he ; 
They saw the forest them before, 
They thought it awsom for to see. 

60 Then spak the erle hight Hamilton, 

And to the nobil king said he, 
My sovereign prince, sum counsell take, 

First at your nobles, syne at me. 
VOL. v. 25 

61 ' Desyre him meet you at Penman's Core, 

And bring four in his cumpanie ; 
Fyve erles sail gang yoursell before, 
Gude cause that you suld honord be. 

62 ' And, if he refuses to do that, 

Wi fire and sword we '11 follow thee ; 
There sail never a Murray after him 
Have land in Etrick forest frie.' 

63 The king then called a gentleman, 

Royal-banner-bearer then was he, 
James Hope Pringle of Torsonse by name ; 
He came and knelit upon his knie. 

64 * Welcum, James Pringle of Torsonse ; 

Ye man a message gae for me ; 

Ye man gae to yon Outlaw Murray, 

Surely where bauldly bideth he. 

55 ' Bid him meet me at Penman's Core, 

And bring four of his companie ; 
Five erles sail cum wi mysell, 
Gude reason I suld honord be. 

56 ' And if he refuses to do that, 

Bid him look for nae gude o me ; 
There sail never a Murray after him 
Have land in Etric forest frie.' 

57 James came before the Outlaw keene, 

And served him in his ain degree : 

' Wellcum, James Pringle of Torsonse, 

What tidings frae the king to me ? ' 

58 ' He bids you meet him at Penman's Core, 

And bring four of your companie ; 
Five erles will cum with the king, 
Nae more in number will he be. 

69 ' And gif you refuse to do that, 

I freely here upgive with thee, 

There will never a Murray after thee 

Have land in Etrick forest frie. 

60 * He '11 cast your bonny castell down, 

And make a widow of your gay ladie, 

He '11 hang your merry men pair by pair 

In ony place where he may them see.' 

61 ' It stands me hard,' the Outlaw said, 

' Judge if it stands not hard with me ; 



I reck not of losing of mysell, 
Bat all my offspring after me. 

62 ' Auld Holiday, young Haliday, 

Ye sail be twa to gang wi me ; 
Andrew Murray and Sir James Murray, 
We '11 be nae mae in cumpanie.' 

63 When that they came before the king, 

They fell before him on their knee : 
' Grant mercy, mercy, royal king, 
Een for his sake who died on tre ! * 

64 ' Sicken-like mercy sail ye have, 

On gallows ye sail hangit be ; ' 
' God forbid ! ' quo the Outlaw then, 
* I hope your Grace will better be. 

65 * These lands of Etrick forest fair, 

I wan them f rae the enemie ; 
Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them, 
Contrail all kings in Christentie.' 

66 All the nobilis said, the king about, 

Pitye it were to see him die : 
* Tet graunt me mercye, sovereign prince, 
Extend your favour unto me ! 

67 * I '11 give you the keys of my castell, 

With the blessing of my fair ladie ; 
Mak me the sheriff of the forest, 
And all my offspring after me.' 

68 * Wilt thou give me the keys of thy castell, 

With the blessing of thy fair ladye ? 
I '11 mak the[e] shiryff of the forest, 
Surely while upwards grows the trie ; 

If you be not traytonr to the king, 
Forfaulted sail ye never be.' 

69 ' But, prince, what sail cum o my men ? 

When I go back, traitour they '11 ca me ; 
I had rather lose my life and land, 
Eer my merry men rebuked me.' 

70 * Will your merry men amend their lives 

And all their pardouns I grant thee : 
Now name thy landes whe'ere they be, 
And here I render them to thee.' 

71 ' Fair Philiphaugh, prince, is my awin, 

1 biggit it wi lime and stane ; 
The Tinnies and the Hangingshaw, 
My leige, are native steeds of mine. 


I have mony steeds in the forest shaw, 
But them by name I dinna knaw.' 

73 The keys of the castell he gave the king, 

With the blessing of his fair ladye ; 
He was made sheryff of Etrick forest, 

Surely while upward grows the trie ; 
And, if he was not tray tour to the king, 

Forfaulted he suld never be. 

74 Wha ever heard, in ony tymes, 

Sicken an outlaw in his degree 
Sic favour get before a king 

As did the Outlaw Murray of the forest 


Glenriddell'a MSS, XI, 61, 1791. 

1 ETTERICK FOREST 's a pleasant land, 

And it grows mony a bonny tree ; 
With buck and doe and a' wild beast, 
A castle stands right bonnilie. 

2 Yon castle has twa unicorns, 

The like I never saw wi my ee, 
The picture of a knight and lady bright, 
And the green hollin 's aboon her [bree]. 

3 Word is gane to Edinbro town 

That there 's an Outlaw in Etterick forest 
That keeps as fine a court as he. 

4 The king has sworn a solemn oath, 

And he has sworn by [the Virgin Mary], 

He would either be king of Etterick forest, 

Or king of Scotland the Outlaw should be. 

5 He has ca'd up Mr James Boyd, 

A highland laird I 'm sure was he : 



' Ye most gae to Etterick forest 
And see of wha he hadfl his land. 
And wha pays yon men meat and fee.' 

6 He 's tane his leave o the king and court, 

Een as hard as he may dree ; 
When he came in o'er London edge, 
He viewed the forest wi his eee. 

7 He thought it was as pleasant a land 

As ever his two eyes did see, 
But when he came in oer . . . , 

They were a' ranked on Newark lee. 

8 O waly, but they were bonny to see ! 

Five hundred men playing at the ba ; 
They were a' clad in the Lincoln green, 
And the Outlaw's sell in taffety. 

9 ' Weel met you save, Outlaw,' he says, 

* You and your brave companie ; 

The King of Scotland hath sent me here, 
To see whom on you hold your lands, 
Or who pays thir men meat and fee.' 

10 The first ae man the answer made, 

It was the Outlaw he : 

* The lands they are all mine, 

And I pay thir men meat and fee, 
And as I wan them so will I lose them, 
Contrair the kings o Cristendie. 

11 ' I never was a king's subject, 

And a king's subject I '11 never be ; 
For I wan them i the fields fighting, 

Where him and his nobles durst not come 
and see.' 

12 out bespeaks the Outlaw's lady, 

I wot she spake right wisely ; 

* Be good unto your nobles at home, 

For Edinbro mine shall never see ; ' 
But meat and drink o the best I 'm sure got 

13 He has taen his leave o the Outlaw free, 

And een as hard as he may dree, 
While he came to the king's court, 

Where he kneeld low down on his knee. 

14 < What news ? what news, James,' he says, 

* Frae yon Outlaw and his company?' 
' Yon forest is as fine a land 

An ever I did see. 

15 ' Yon Outlaw keeps as fine a court 

As any king in Cristendie ; 
Yon lands they are here all his own, 

And he pays yon men meat and fee, 
And as he wan them so will he lose them, 

Contrair the kings of Cristendie. 

16 ' He never was a king's subject, 

And a king's subject he '11 never be ; 
For he wan them in the fields fighting, 

Where the king and his nobles durst not 
come to see.' 

17 The king has sworn a solemn oath, 

And he has sworn by the Virgin Mary, 
He would either be king of Etterick forest, 
Or king of Scotland the Outlaw should be. 

18 The king has ca'd up Mr James Pringle, 

Laird of Torson[s]e at the time was he : 
* Ye must gae to Etterick forest, 
And see wha of he hads his land, 
And wha pays yon men meat and fee.' 


26 ' And as I wan them so will I lose them, 

Contrair the kings o Cristendie ; 
I wan them frae the Soudan Turk, 

When their cuckold king durst not come to 

For I wan them in the fields fighting, 

Where him and his nobles durst not come 
to see.' 


33 ' Gar warn me Perthshire and Angus both, 

Fifeshire up and down, and Loudens three, 
For I fear of them we hae great need, 

34 Then word is come to the Outlaw then, 

' Our noble king comes on the morn, 
Landless men ye will a* be ; ' 
He 's called up his little foot-page, 
His sister's son I trow was he. 

35 < Ye must tak Etterick head 

Een as hard as ye can drie ; 
Ye must gae to the Corhead and tell 
Andrew Brown this frae me. 



36 ' The noble king comes in the morn, 

And landless men we will a* be ; 

And tell him to send me some supply.' 

37 The boy has taen Etterick head, 

And een as hard as he may drie, 
Till he came to the Corhead, 
And he shouted out and cry'd well he. 

38 ' What news ? what news, my little boy ? 

What news has thy master to me ? * 
* The noble king comes in the morn, 
And landless then ye will a' be. 

39 * Ye must meet him on the morn, 

And mak him some supply ; ' 
' For if he get the forest fair frae him, 
He '11 hae Moffat-dale frae me. 

40 * 1 11 meet him the morn wi five hundred men, 

And fifty mair, if they may be ; 
And if he get the forest fair 

We '11 a' die on the Newark lee.' 

41 Word is gane to the Border then, 

To . . . , the country-keeper I'm sure 

was he: 

6 The noble king comes in the morn, 
And landless men ye will a' be.' 

42 ' 1 11 meet him the morn wi five hundred men, 

And fifty mair, if they may be ; 
And if he get the forest fair, 
We '11 a' die on the Newark lee.' 

43 Word is gane to Philiphaugh, 

His sister's son I 'm sure was he, 
To meet him the morn wi some supply, 
* For the noble king comes in the morn, 
And landless men ye will a' be.' 

44 ' In the day I daur not be seen, 

For he took a' my lands frae me 
And gifted me them back again ; 

Therefore against him I must not be ; 
For if I be found against him rebel, 

It will be counted great treason[rie]. 

45 ' In the day I daur not be seen, 

But in the night he shall me find 
With five hundred men and fifty, if they 

And before he get the forest fair 
We '11 a' die on the Newark lee/ 

46 When the king came in oer London edge, 

Wi three thousand weel teld was he, 
And when he came in oer . . . 
He viewd that forest wi his ee. 

47 The Outlaw and his men were a' 

Ranked on the Newark lee ; 
They were a' clad in the Lincoln green, 
And he himsell in the taffety. 

48 An auld grey-haird knight has taen aff his 


1 Pardon, pardon, my sovereign liege, 
Two or three words to speak wi you. 

49 * If you please to send for the Outlaw, 

To see if he could with you agree, 
There 's not a man yon Outlaw has 
But of yours he '11 choose to be.' 

50 The king he has taen af his cap, 

He held it on his majesty ; 
' I '11 meet him the morn at the poor man's 


In number not above two or three ; ' 
The Outlaw says, I '11 hae as few as thee. 

51 * There 's Andrew Brown, and Andrew Murray, 

And Mess James Murray shall gang wi me, 

And nae mae shall my number be.' 

52 And when they came to the poor man's core 

They waited two lang hours or three, 
And they were aware of the noble king com- 
And hundreds three in his company. 

53 ' I wonder what the muckle Deel 

He '11 learned kings to lie, 
For to fetch me here frae amang my men 

Even like a dog for to die ; 
But before I gang to Edinbro town 

Monny toom saddles shall there be.' 

54 The king he has taen aff his cap ; 

' It [were] great offence here,' he says, 
* And great pity to see thee die. 



55 ' For thou shalt be laerd o this forest fair 

As lang as upwards grows the tree 
And downward the twa rivers run, 
If the steads thou can hut rightly name to 
me. 1 

56 ( There's Hangingsha* 
shaw laigh, 

high and Hanging- 

The Tinis and the Tinis-bura, 
The Newark and the Newark lee.' 

" Scotch Balladi, Materials for Border Minstrelsy," No 31 , 
Abbotsford ; in the handwriting of William Laid law. 

1 ' GAE fetch to me James Pringle wi hast, 

An see that he come speedilie, 
For he maun on to Ettrick forest, 
An see whae pays yon men meat and 

2 When James Pringle cam down oer Birken- 


The hawks war yellin right loudlie, 

The hunds war rinnin oer hill and dale, 

As the bugle-horn soundit bonnilie. 

3 ' Gae tell yer king this land 's my ain, 

An to thir men I pay meat and fee ; 
I took it thrae the Souden Turk, 
When nae sic cuckold king might be. 

4 ' Sae as I wan, sae will I lose, 

Spite o the kings in Christendie ; 
I never was a king's subject, 
Nor a king's subject will I ever be/ 

5 ' Outlaw Murray says yon land 's his ain, 

And to yon men he pays meat and fee ; 
He took it f rae the Souden Turk, 
When you and your men durstna come and 

6 It was than the king he gat up in hast, 

An wow an angrie man was he ! 
' I 'se either be king o Ettrick forest, 
Or king o Scotland sal he be. 

7 * Gar warn me Fife an a' Lothian land, 

An Perth an Angus, to ride wi me, 

For gin we war five thousan strong 
Master and mair I fear he '11 be.' 

8 When the king came oer be Birkendalee, 

He spy'd the forest wi his ee ; 
There war daes an raes an monie wild beast, 
An a castle stannin right bonnilie. 

9 An in that castle a unicorn, 

An, waly, but they war fair to see ! 
A warlike knight and a lady bright, 
An the green halleen aboon her bree. 

10 An Outlaw Murray an his merry men 

War a* rankit up i the Newark lee, 
Well mountit on a milk-white steed ; 
Waly, he rankit them bonnilie ! 

11 His men war a clad oer wi green, 

An he was clad i the tafEatie, 
Wi belt an pistle by his side ; 
waly, but they war fair to see ! 

12 ' Haliday young an Halliday auld, 

Ye ir the men that man ride wi me ; 
But gin we war five hunder strang 
Master an mair I fear they '11 be.' 

13 ' Philliphaugh it is my ain, 

An Newark it belangs to me ; 
Lewinshope an Hanginshaw 
Nae mortal man can claim thrae me.' 

14 It was than James Boyd got up in hast. 
An to his merry men a' spak he ; 



9L a. The division of stanzas as made in the 
MS. has been changed in 19*-23, 68'-73 6 . 
Of course all the stanzas were originally 
of four verses, but in some oases it is not 
now possible to determine at what points 
verses have been lost. Two lines are in the 
MS. indicated (conjecturally, no doubt) to 
have dropped out after 41 a , 48 s , 70*. 41 8 ** 
have been supplied from the copy in Herd's 
first volume. There are asterisks in Herd 
I after 52*. 

1*. Cf. 16 a , 29*, and b. 

4 1 , 32 1 . Cf. 19 l and b. But o agrees with a. 

5 1 . Side note in MS. : James II, 1454. 

31*. lived. 34 2 . Cf. b, o. 

Variations in Herd, / (not regarding spell- 
ing). 2*, 4 1 . are wanting. 3*. the brie. 

3 s . hundir. 5*. his country. 

6 1 . then wanting. 11*. he dwelleth he. 

16*. him near by. 17*. fair front 

21 8 . land. 31 1 . and a. 

31*. keeps him : minder. 

35 1 . Outlaws (wrongly). 

41 M . As supplied in the text. Cf. o. 

58 a . bring him four. 

58*. Nae mae. 62*. nae mair. 63*. sake that 

66 1 . Thir. 68 8 . mak thee. 68*. upward. 
b. 1 s . There 's hart and hynd and dae and rae. 

1*. wilde beastes. 2 1 . a feir. 3 s . keeps. 

4 1 . are a' in ae. 4*. sae gaye. 

4*. gin they lived. 

5*. nor a'. 6*. outlaw sail. 7 1 , 50 1 . the lord. 

7*. at your : at me. 8 1 . ye. 

9 1 . And wanting. 

9 a , 12 1 , 13*, 21", 35*, 44*, 48 1 , 65 1 , 70 8 . landis. 

10 1 . then caUed a. 10". the erle. 

10*. He knelit. 11*. where bydeth. 

12 8 . And desyre. 13 3 . sail gie. 

16*. hym neir bi. 17 1 . Of that. 

17 8 . oastell feir. 17*. were gaye. 

18*. on Newark lee. 19 1 . were a'. 

19 s . sae gaye. 

19*. 1802, gin. 1803, instead o/19 8 ** : 
His men were a' clad in the grene, 
The knight was armed capapie, 
With a bended bow, on a milk-white steed, 
And I wot they ranked right bonilie. 

19*. Thereby Boyd. 20*. seemis. 22 a . I ken. 

22*. his knightis. 23 8 , 37 8 , 58 1 . ye. 

23. hath. 25 8 , 50*. nobilis. 26 8 . bef or a. 

27 a . James Boyd. 28 1 . When James he. 

28 9 . He knelit lowlie on : seyd our. 

30 1 . in the forefront 81 1 . and a. 

31*. Wi the. 

31*. He keepis a royalle oompanie. 
32 1 . in ae. 32 s . sae gaye. 32*. gin. 
33 s . frae the Southronie. 33*, 65*. kingis. 
34. ' Gar warn me Perthshire and Angus baith, 
Fife up and down and the Louthians 

three, (cf. B 33 1 ' 9 ) 

And graith my horse,' said the nobil king, 
' For to Ettricke Foreste hie will I me/ 
35 8 . 1803, cuming. 36*. 1802, cumand. 
37 a . hie them. 37', 69 a . gae. 
38 M . The king cums on for Ettricke Foreste, 
And landless men we a' will be. (Cf. 

40 1 . said. 
41 a . surely mair. 
Between 41 W and 41 M : 

And before he gets the Foreste feir, 

We a' will die on Newark Lee. (Cf. B 

41 M . The Outlaw calld a messenger, 

And bid him hie him speedilye. 
43 wanting. 44 1 . Andrew Murray said. 
44 a , 61 a . gif : na. 44*. And set 45 1 . if. 
45 s . laird wanting. 
47 1>a . And now he is cuming (1802, cumand) 

to Ettricke Foreste, 
And landless men ye a' will be. (Cf.B 


47*. will I live. 48 a . 1802, canna : warse. 
49 1 . 1803, cuming. 49 2 . full five. 
49 8 . the derke. 50 8 . sovereign liege. 
51 1 . mete thee. 62 1 , 56 1 . gif. 
52 a . We '11 conquess baith his landis and he. 
52*. Hald. 
Between 52 and 53 : 

Then spak the kene laird of Bnckscleuth, 
A stalworthye man and sterne was he ; 

* For a king to gang an Outlaw till 
Is beneath his state and his dignitie. 

6 The man that wons yon Foreste intill, 

He lives by reif and f elonie ; 
Wherefore, brayd on, my sovereign liege, 

Wi fire and sword we '11 follow thee ; 

(see a 52 a ) 
Or, gif your courtrie lords fa back, 

Our borderers sail the onset gie/ 

Then out and spak the nobil king, 
And round him cast a wilie ee ; 

1 Now hand thy tongue, sir Walter Scott, 
Nor speik of reif nor felonie, 



For, had everye honeste man his a win kye, 
A right puir clan thy name wad be/ 

53 2 . there was. 53 8 . Hop. 

54*. A message ye maun gang. 

65 a , 58 3 . four in. 57*. What message. 

58 8 . erles sail gang himsell bef or. 

59 8 ' 4 . He '11 cast yon bonny castle down, 

And male a widowe o that gaye ladye. 
60. He '11 loose yon bluidhound borderers 
Wi fire and sword to follow thee ; 
There will nevir a Murray after thysell 

Have land in Ettricke Foreste f rie. 
61*. Wha reck not losing. 
After 61 : 

My merryemen's lives, my widowe's teirs, 

There lies the pang that pinches me ! 
When I am straught in bluidie eard, 

Yon castell will be right dreirie. 
63 s . nobil king. 63*. sake that. 
64 8 . Over God's forbode, quoth. 
After 64 4 (added in 1803) : 

Else ere ye come to Edinburgh port 

I trow thin guarded sail ye be. 
66 1 . Thir. 65 s . from. 
66 1 . said wanting. 
66 a . Said pitie. 67 1 . give thee. 
67*, 68 2 . gaye for fair. 
67 8 . Gin thoult mak me sheriff e of this. 
68 8 . I 'se : of Ettricke Foreste. 68 6 . sail thou. 
70 8 . they lie. 
71. 1802. 

Fair Philiphaugh, prince, is my ain, 
But and a part of the Newark lee, 
The Pinnies and the Hangingshaw, 
My liege, are native steads to me. 
Fair Philiphaugh is mine by right, 

And Lewinshope still mine shall be ; 
Newark, Foulshiells and Tinnies baith 

My bow and arrow purchased me. 
72 1 * 2 . 1803. 

And I have native steads to me 

The Newark lee and Hangingshaw ; 
73*. upwards. 73 6 . was na. 
o. This copy agrees closely, as to substance, with 
a. After 50* it has two lines, partially 
corrupted, which do not occur in a, and it 
lacks st. 60, which, it is to be observed, 
does not occur in the king's instructions to 
Pringle, 54-56 (though found in the instruc- 
tions to Boyd, 14), and was therefore not to 
be expected. Verbal differences are numer- 

ous, but in only a very few cases of the least 
importance, and in these for the worse. 

I 4 , 16 2 , 29 4 . wild beasts. 2 1 . builded of. 

2 8 . There 's in. 2 4 . is braw. 3 1 . and lady. 

3 8 ' 4 , 31*. keeps. 4 1 . men 's in livery. 

4 a . is fair. 4 4 . O gin. 5 4 . country. 

6 1 . then wanting. 6 4 . sail be. 

7 1 , 26 1 . spoke. 7 4 . good nobles, and syne. 

8 2 , 45 1 , 59 1 . if. 8 2 . yon man. 

8 8 , 12 8 , 42 8 , 51 l , 55 1 . him to. 

9 1 , 13 8 , 19 4 , 23 8 , 30 2 , 31 4 , 32 4 , 40 8 . gin. 

9S13 8 . refuse. 9 2 , 13 4 , 23 4 , 35 4 . conqueist 

9 8 . we '11 cast. 

9 4 , 14 2 , 23, 43 2 . his (thy, my) fair. 

10*. and his brother-in-law. 

II 1 . said the. II 2 . gae. II 8 . to fair E. 

12 1 . holds. 12 4 . yon fair forrest of me. 

13 1 , 15 2 , 44 8 . Till. 14 1 . may: I 'se. 

16 8 . There heard he bows did. 

16 4 . whithering him near by. 17 l . the great. 

17 8 . the castle he saw. 17 4 . unicorns so braw. 

19 1 . They were all in ane. 19 4 . not royallie. 

19*. he knew. 19 6 . Reserved. 

20 1 . Good mot ye. 

20 2 . Thy fair lady and thy. 

21 1 . he sent. 21 4 . may your. 22 1 . lands is. 

22 2 . And I ken. 22 8 . From Soldan Turk. 

22*. king and his men was. 

23 1 . ye, man, to come. 23 8 . ye. 24 8 . Then. 

24 4 . wiU I. 25 2 . Thir lands. 

25 8 . they saU lie. 26 2 . Said she. 

26 8 . That any: enter bef ore a. 26*. radfor. 

27 1 . lords. 27 8 . leave at. 

27 4 . Unto : bound he. 

29 1 . is ane of the : f orrests. 30'. that fair c. 

31 *. There 's wanting : and a. 31*. There an. 

31 4 . live. 32 1 . is in 1. 32 a . is fair. 

S3 1 , is truely his. 

33 2 . He says he : Soldanie. 

33 8 . Like as : he loss it. 34 s . In E. Forrest 

34 4 . And made for. 35 1 . to the. 

35 2 . where lay. 35 8 . coming to this. 

35 4 . And ould. 36 8 . Will : men take. 

36 4 . Your : sail. 37*. speed them. 

38 1 . Be certain he. 

38 2 . And bid him come and. 

38'. Till Halliday till that he come. 

38 4 . You show. 39 8 . Nought 

40 1 , 44 1 . said. 40, 69 8 . loss. 41 a . if L 

41 M wanting. 42 1 . Laird of. 

42 4 , 47 a . that wanting. 44 s , 61 1 . O gin it 

45 a . in the night ye. 45 4 . right hastilie. 

46'. needs me. 47 1 . desired ye to. 



48 1 . be 's. 48*. no worse for. 
49 1 . coming oer Cadron. 49 4 . awfu. 
60*. Unto. 50 4 . First of: and then of . 
After 60 4 : 

Tet I reid 700 send yon Outlaw till, 
And if you man them, come will he. 

(Repetition, with corruption, o/8 lf8 .) 
61* four of the best of. 51 8 , 62 2 . gae. 
61 s , 65'. aun sell. 51*. Good reason yon. 
62 a . follow will we. 
62 s . never after him again* 
63 1 . king he called. 53*. bearer of Scotland. 
63 8 . Hoppringle. S3 4 , on. 
64 1 , 57 8 . Laird of. 64H Thou. 66 1 . Desire. 
66 2 , 58 a . Bring four of the best of the (your). 
65 4 . reason in some part I. 56*. good from. 
67 4 . What biddings. 68 1 . desires you to. 
68 4 . Naemae. 59 1 . ye. 59 a . Truelie here I. 
60 wanting. 61 8 . What rack of the. 
62 8 . Sir wanting. 63 4 . sake that. 
64 l . Siccan mercie you sal. 64 a . sal you. 
64*. said the 0. syne. 65 1 . The. 
65 a . from. 65 s . sae will I loss. 66 1 . noblemen. 
66*. Pitie, Outlaw : see thee. 
66 4 . Let your favour be given to, 
67 1 . my fair. 

67 8 . Why, ye will make me sheriff : the fair. 
68 1 . Will ye : your. 68 a . of your. 
68 8 . of Ettrick Forrest. 
68 6 . If ye be not a : to your. 
68 e . Forfeited. 

69 1 . But alace, prince : become. 69 8 . lands. 
70 1 . thy. 70 a . grant I frie. 70 8 . where. 
71 4 . Prince, they are native lands. 
72 4 . But well their names I do not 
73 8 . He made him. 
73 6 . a traitor to the crown. 73 6 . should he. 

74 1 . any time. 74*. Sic ane Outlaw. 

74 4 . Outlaw in the Forrest 
d. The MS. extant in the PhUiphaugh ar- 
chives exhibits, besides many differences of 
spelling, the following variations in read- 
ing from o as printed by Aytoun : 

6 1 . Side note: Jas the 2d, 1454. 

17 4 . is bra for so braw. 

19 a . is fair for so fair. 

21 4 . mak for man, wrongly. 

22*. From Soudron/or From Soldan Turk. 

24 a . see for find. 26 a . said wanting, wrongly. 

33 2 . Soudonie/or Soldanie. 

33*, 65*. tyne/or loss. 38 8 . Tell for Till 

40 4 . Mosaldale/orMoffat-dale. 

43 2 . ane/or a. 45 2 . he for ye. 

48 a . work for worse, wrongly. 

60 4 . syne for then. 

61 \ 65 1 , 68 *. Penman score, wrongly. 

52 1 , 56 1 . refuse for refuses. 

66 2 . frae/or from. 

66 1 . Tbir/orthe. 

73 s . With his for With the, wrongly. 
B. The division of stanzas has been rearranged. 

6 a . " Reciters," says Scott, " sometimes call the 
messenger the laird of Skene." 

21=8. 21 8 . the wanting. 21 4 . in the. 

22^9. 22 4 . land. 24-11. 24 4 . come to. 

35 8 . Carhead. 

60, 64. Passing over the king's taking off his 
cap to an outlaw, which is monstrously ' be- 
neath his state and his dignitie,' / can make 
nothing of the line which succeeds in each 
of these stanzas. 

52 1 . score for core. 

O. 14. Displaced. James Boyd should of course 
come in before James Pringle. 


" DISPERSED thro Shakspere's plays are 
innumerable little fragments of ancient bal- 
lads, the entire copies of which could not be 
recovered," says Bishop Percy in his preface 
to * The Friar of Orders Gray/ What he 
says of Shakspere is equally true of Beaumont 
and Fletcher, but it is not true, in either case, 
that there are many fragments of popular 
traditional ballads. Portions of ballads of 
one kind or another, and still more of songs, 
are introduced into the plays of these authors, 
though not so frequently as one would sup- 
pose from Percy's words. Ten of the twenty- 
eight stanzas of * The Friar of Orders Gray ' 
are taken, mostly in part only, from Shak- 
spere and Fletcher,* but the original verses 
are from songs, not properly from ballads. 
It is not, however, always easy to say whether 
an isolated stanza belonged to a ballad or a 
song. Some snatches from familiar ballads, 
which occur in Beaumont and Fletcher, have 
already been given at the proper places. A 
few bits from unknown pieces, which occur 
in Shakspere, or Beaumont and Fletcher 
(strictly, perhaps, Fletcher), will be given 
here. It is surprising that other dramatists 
have not furnished something. 

A very meagre gathering of fragments from 
other sources follows those which have been 
gleaned from the dramatists, but it must be 
once more said that there is not an absolute 
certainty that all of these belong to ballads. 

Some popular tales are interspersed with 

Stanza I 1 - 8 of Percy's ballad is from The Taming of the 
Shrew, iv, 1 ; 3, 5, 7, are, wholly or in part, from Hamlet, 
iv, 5; 12, 13, from Fletcher's Queen of Corinth, iii, 2; 15 
from Hamlet, as before ; 17, 18, from Much Ado about 
Nothing, 11, 3 , one line of 22 from King Lear, iii, 4 

t The verses from this tale are printed separately in 
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 117, 'The 
Maid and Fairy. 1 

| But Jamieson confesses* "Of the verses which have 
been introduced I cannot answer for the exactness of any, 

VOL. y. 26 

verses of a ballad character, and one or two 
cases have been incidentally noted already. 
Examples are ' The Paddo,' Cham here's Pop- 
ular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, p. 87 ; f * The 
Red Etin,' ib. p. 89 ; * The Black Bull of Nor- 
roway,' ib. p. 95 ; ' Child Rowland and Burd 
Ellen,' Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, 
p. 397 ; J l The Golden Ball,' see No 95, H, 
II, 353-55. 


From King Lear, Act iii, sc 4, printed 1608. 
Child Rowland to the darke tower came. 
His word was still, Fy, fo, and fumme ! 
I smell the bloud of a British man. 

1. So 1623 : both quartos, darke towne come. 

Act in, sc 6 

Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepheard ? 

Thy sheepe bee in the corne ; 
And for one blast of thy minikin mouth 

Thy sheepe shall take no harme. 

From The Taming of the Shrew, Act iv, sc. 1, printed 
1623, I, 221 

It was the friar of orders gray, 
As he forth walked on his way. 


From The Knight of the Burning Pestle, produced ap- 
parently in 1611, Act ii, BC 8, Dyce, II, 173. 

She cares not for her daddy, 

Nor she cares not for her mammy, 

except the stanza pat into the mouth of the king of Elf- 
land, which was indelibly impressed upon my memory 
[though J. was only seven or eight years old] long before I 
knew anything of Shakspere." The stanza is [in came the 
king of Elfiand,] 

With fi, fi, fo and f um ' 
I smell the blood of a Christian man ; 

Be he dead, be he living, wi my brand 
I '11 clash his harns frae his harn-pan.' 



For she is, she is, she is, she is 
My lord of Lowgave's lassy. 
(Perhajts only a song.) 

Give him flowers enow, palmer, give him flowers 

Give him red and white, and blue, green, and 


Act v, sc in , Dyce, p. 226. 

With that came out his paramour, 
She was as white as the lily-flower. 
Hey, troul, troly, loly 

With thaj; came out her own dear knight, 
He was as true as ever did fight 

From Bonduca, produced before March, 1619 Act v, 
sc 2, Dyce, V, 88. 

It was an old tale, ten thousand times told, 
Of a young lady was turnd into mould, 
Her life it was lovely, her death it was bold. 

From The Two Noble Kinsmen, printed in 1634, Act 
111, sc 4 , Dyce, XI, 383 

For I '11 cut my green coat a foot above my knee, 
And I '11 clip my yellow locks an inch below mine ee. 
Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny 

He 's buy me a white cut, forth for to ride, 

And I '11 go seek him through the world that is so 

Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny 

is sure the people did abhorre it, execrating 
the very place where it was done ; in detesta- 
tion of the fact of which the memory remain- 
eth yet to our dayes in these words." Since 
Hume mentions no ballad, it is not likely that 
he knew of more than this single stanza, or 
that more existed. (Sir Walter Scott, how- 
ever, confidently assumes that there was a 
ballad. Minstrelsy, 1833, I, 221 f.) 

Edinburgh castle, towne, and tower, 
God grant thou sinke for sinne ! 

And that even for the black dinner 
Earle Douglas got therein. 

Written on the fly-leaf of a little volume printed at Edin 
burgh about 1670 (Quevedo's Novels), Lamg MSS, Univer- 
sity of Edinburgh, Div. II, 358 (Communicated by Mr 
Macmath ) 

* He steps full statly on y* stre[et], 
He hads y" charters of him sell, 

In to his cloathing he is compl[ete], 
In Craford's mure he bears y c bell. 

1 1 wish I had died my own f ai[r] death, 
In tender age, q n I was young , 

I would never have broke my heart 
For y e love of any churl's son. 

1 Wo be to my parents all, 

Y l lives so farr beyond y e sea ! 
I might have lived a noble life, 

And wedded in my own countre.' 

The Complaynt of Scotland, 1549, gives 
two lines of a song on the murder, in 1517, of 
the Sieur de la Bastie, a distinguished knight 
in the service of the Regent, Duke of Albany. 
The song may, or may not, have been a ballad. 

God sen the Due hed byddin in France, 
And Delabaute" hed neuyr cum hame. 

ed. Leyden, p. 100. 

The History of the Houses of Douglas and Angus, written 
by Master David Hume of Godscroft, p 155, Edinburgh, 

Of the treacherous execution of William, 
sixth Earl of Douglas, at the castle of Edin- 
burgh, in 1440, Hume of Godscroft says : " It 

Finlay's Scottish Ballads, I, xxxn 

A " romantic ballad, of which, unfortu- 
nately, one stanza only has been preserved. 
The tradition bears that a young lady was 
carried away by the fairies, and that, although 
invisible to her friends who were in search of 
her, she was sometimes heard by them la- 
menting her destiny in a pathetic song, of 
which the stanza just mentioned runs nearly 
thus : " 

Alva hills is bonny, 

Dalycoutry hills is fair, 
But to think on the braes of Menstrie 

It inaks my heart fu sair. 




Sent by Motherwell to C K Sharpe, with a bttcr dated 
October 8, 1825 Also entered in Motherwell's Note-Book, 
p. 53 (excepting the second line of the first stanza) 

King Edelbrode cam owre the sea, 

Fa la lilly 
All for to marry a gay ladye. 

Fa la lilly. 

(Then follows the description of a queen, 
jimp and sma, not remembered.) 

Her lilly hands, sae white and sma, 

Fa la lilly 
Wi gouden rings were huskit braw. 

Fa la lilly 

" I cannot get any precise account of its 
subject, but it related somehow to a most 
magnificent marriage. The old lady who 
sung it died some years ago/' (Letter to 
Sharpe ) 

"It may be the same ballad as the scrap 
I have, with something of a similar chorus." 
(Note-Book, where the u choius" is Fa fa 


The reference seems to be to fc The Whum- 
mil Bore,' No 27, I, 255. 

C K Sharped Letters, ed Allardjce, II, 106 (1813) 
k O come you from the earth v ' she said, 

4 Or come you from the skye ^ ' 
4 Oh, I am from yonder churchyard, 

Where my crumbling rehcks lie.' 

Sharpe somewhere asks, Where does this 
belong ? 

Possibly in some version of 4 Proud Lady 
Margaret/ No 47, II, 425. 

MS of Thomas Wilkip, p 7'J, " Scotch Ballads, Materials 
for Border Minstrelsy/' No 7J a, Abhotsford 

The great bull of Bendy-law 
Has broken his band and run awa, 
And the king and a' his court, 
Canna turn that hull about. 

" Scotch Ballads, Material^ for Border Minstrelsy," No 
86 a, Abbotsford, in the handwriting of Thomas Wilkie 

Red-Cap he was there, 
And he was there indeed, 

And he was standing by, 
With a red cap on his head. 

" Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy," No 
73 a, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, Abbotsford, derived by 
Wilkie from his father, "who heard a Lady Brigs sing 
this when he was a boy " 

He took a sword in every hand 

And on the house did venture, 
And swore if they wad not gee her up 

He would make all their doors play clatter. 

Her angry father, when lie saw this, 
That he would lose his ae daughter, 

He swore if he had not been gude at the sword 
He durst not come to make his doors clatter. 

It was far in the night, and the bairnies grat , 
The mither beneath the mools heaid that. 

sung in Wuthering Heights, ch 9, has not 
unnaturally been taken foi a relic of a tradi- 
tional Scottish ballad of a dead mother ic- 
turuing to her abused childien. It is, in fact, 
a stanza (not literally well remembcied) fioni 
the Danish ballad c Moderen undei Mulde,' 
Grundtvig, II, 470, No 89, B 11, translated 
by Jamieson, and given in the notes to the 
fourth canto of Scott's Lady of the Lake. 

The following " fragment," given in Mother- 
weirs MS., p. 184, "from Mr William Steele 
of Greenock, advocate," 1 suppose to have 
been the effort of a self-satisfied amateur, and 
to have been wiitten as a fragment. The 
third arid fourth stanzas recall the broadside 
ballad * The Lady Isabella's Tragedy.' 

Lady Margaret has bound her silken snood 

A little aboon her bree, 
Lady Margaret has kilted her grey mantel 

A little aboon her knee. 

Lady Margaret has left her bonnie bower, 

But and her father's ha, 
And with Lord Hugh Montgomerie 

Lady Margaret has gane awa. 

1 1 have made a bed, Lady Margaret, 
Beneath the hawthorn-tree ; 


It 'B lang and it 's deep, and there thou shalt The wine that is poured by her fair, fair hand 

sleep Is sweetest aye to me.' 

Till I come back to thee.' 
********* Then out and spake the fat earth-worm, 

That wons beneath the stane ; 
Then out and spake her father dear, ' Yestreen I fed on a rosie cheek 

As he sat down to dine, And on a white hause-bane. 

' Gae, page, and tell Lady Margaret to come 

And fill for me the wme. * Yestreen I fed on a rosy cheek 

And on a snaw-white bree ; 

* Gae, page, and tell Lady Margaret to come But never again Lady Margaret 

And glad her father's ee ; Shall fill the wine for thee." 


VOL. I. 
1. Riddles Wisely Expounded. 

P. 1 a, VI, 496 a. Guess or die. Kristensen, Jyske 
Folkemmder, X, 2, * Svend Bondes Spargsmaal,' B 

3-5. From Miss M H Mason's Nursery Rhymes 
and Country Songs, p. 31 , sung in Northumberland. 


1 There was a lady in the West, 

Lay the bank with the bonny broom 
She had three daughters of the best. 
Fa lang the dillo 
Fa lang the dillo dillo dee 

2 There came a stranger to the gate, 
And he three days and nights did wait. 

3 The eldest daughter did ope the door, 
The second set him on the floor. 

4 The third daughter she brought a chair, 
And placed it that he might sit there. 

(To first daughter) 

5 * Now answer me these questions three, 
Or you shall surely go with me 

(To second daughter ) 

6 ' Now answer me these questions six, 
Or you shall surely be Old Nick's. 

(To all three ) 

7 * Now answer me these questions nine, 
Or you shall surely all be mine. 

8 * What is greener than the grass ? 
What is smoother than crystal glass ? 

9 ' What is louder than a horn * 
What is sharper than a thorn ? 

10 ' What is brighter than the light ? 
What is darker than the night ? 

11 ' What is keener than an axe ? 
What is softer than melting wax ? 

12 l What is rounder than a ring ? ' 

* To you we thus our answers bring. 

13 * Envy is greener than the grass, 
Flattery smoother than crystal glass. 

14 ' Rumour is louder than a horn, 
Hunger is sharper than a thorn. 

15 ' Truth is brighter than the light, 
Falsehood is darker than the night. 

16 ' Revenge is keener than an axe, 
Love is softer than melting wax. 

17 ' The world is rounder than a ring, 
To you we thus our answers bring. 

18 l Thus you have our answers nine, 
And we never shall be thine.' 

Findlay's MSS, I, 151, from J Milne. 

' What 's greener than the fjniss? 
What 's higher than the clouds? 
What is worse than women's tongues? 
What 's deeper than the floods f ' 

1 Holhn 's greener than the grass, 
Heaven \ highei than the clouds, 
The devil's worse than women's tongues, 
Hell ? s deeper than the floods/ 

2. The Elfin Knight. 

P. 7 b, III, 496 a, IV, 439 a. * Store Fordringer/ 
Kristensen, J\ske Folkemmder, XI, 175, No 66 (three 
copies), 294, No 4. * Umulige Ford ringer/ Kristensen, 
Efterslaet til SkaUegraveren, p 20, No 16. 

14 a, II, 495. After the note to 14 a at II, 495, add : 
C. R. Lanman. 

17. Communicated by Mr Walker, of Aberdeen, as 
sung, 1893, by John Walker, Portlethen ; learned by 
him from his father, above fifty years before, 



1 There was a knigbt on the head o yon hill 
Blowing his horn lood and shrill. 

Blow, blow, blow the wind, blow 

2 * Ye *se get to me a camrick sark 
Without ae steek o needlewark. 

3 * An ye will wash it in a wall 

Where rain never fell nor water sprang. 

4 ' An ye sail dry it on a thorn 

That never wis sprung sin Adam was born.' 

5 ' Ye 'se gie me an acre o red Ian 
Atween the see an the watery Ban. 

6 * An ye will plough it wi yer horn, 
An sa it a* wi ae pick o corn. 

An cut it doon wi a sheepshank bone. 

8 * An ye will big it in the sea, 

An bring the foonshief dry to me. 

9 ' An when ye have done and finished yer wark, 
Come in, Jock Sheep, an ye '11 get yer sark.' 

As delivered, 5-8 precede 2-4. 

17, 484 b. M. Fmdlay's MSS, I, 21, from the 
recitation of Jeany Meldrum, Framedrum, Forfarshire. 

17, II, 495 b. In The Monthly Chronicle of North 
Country Lore and Legend, III, 7, * Whittingham Fair ' 
is given by Mr Stokoe with a few variations. 

1. Second line of refrain , 

For once she was a true lover of mine. 

2, 4. Second line of refrain, 

Then she shall be a true lover. 
8. Second line of refrain, 

And she shall be a true lover. 

5. Second line of refrain, 

Before he shall be a true lover. 

6. Second line of refrain, 

Then he shall be a true lover. 

7. 8, 9. Second line of refrain, 

And he shall be a true lover. 
6 1 . to buy. 8 1 . to sheer 't. 
After 8 : Tell him to thrash it on yonder wall, 
And never let one corn of it fall. 
Then he shall be a true lover of mine. 

17,484f., H, 495 f., IV, 439 f. 

Scarborough Fair/ taken down by H. M. Bower, 
December, 1891, from William Moat, a Whitby fisher- 
man. English County Songs, by Lucy . Broad wood 
and J. A. Fuller Maitland, 1893, p. 12. 

1 ' Is any of you going to Scarborough Fair? 
Remember me to a lad as lives there ; 
Remember me to a lad as lives there ; 

For once he was a true lover of mine. 
(Second line always twice.) 

2 ( Tell him to bring me an acre of land 
Betwixt the wild ocean and yonder aea sand ; 

And then he shall be a true lover of mine. 

3 ' Tell him to plough it with one ram's horn, 
And sow it all over with one pepper corn ; 

And then he shall be a true lover of mine. 

4 ' Tell him to reap it with sickle of leather, 
And bind it together with one peacock-feather ; 

And then he shall be a true lover of mine. 

5 * And now I have answered your questions three, 
I hope you '11 answer as many for me ; 

And then thou shall be a true lover of mine/ 

6 ' Is any of you going to Scarborough Fair ? 
Remember me to a lass as lives there ; 

For once she was a true lover of mine. 

7 * Tell her to make me a cambric shirt, 
Without any needles or thread, or owt through't ; 

And then she shall be a true lover of mine. 

8 * Tell her to wash it by yonder wall, 

Where water neer sprung, nor a drop o rain fall ; 
And then she shall be a true lover of mine. 

9 ' Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn, 

Where blossom neer grew sin Adam was born ; 
And then she shall be a true lover of mine. 

10 * And now I have answered your questions three, 
And I hope you Ml answer as many for me ; 
And then thou shalt be a true lover of mine.' 

Rev. S. Baring-Gould gives me these variations, from 
the West of England . 

1 tell her to bleach it on yonder fresh grass, 
Where never a foot or a hoof did pass.' 

1 O tell him to thresh it in yonder barn, 
That hangs to the sky by a thread of yarn.' 

' Pray take it up in a bottomless sack, 
And every leaf grows merry in time 

And bear it to the mill on a butterfly's back. 
O thus you shall be a true lover of mine ' 

4. Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight. 

P. 26 b. Danish. 'Kvindemorderen,' two frag* 
ments ; Kristensen, Folkeminder, XI, 62, No 33. 

29-37, 486 a, IV, 441 a. PP. * Schon Hannchen,' 
Frischbier und Sembrzycki, Hundert Ostpreussischo 



Vblkslieder, 1893, p. 35, No 22, from Angerburg, 61 
w. The ballad is of the third class. Hannchen walks 
in the wood, and Ulrich advances to meet her. The 
birds are all singing, and the maid asks why. ' Every 
bird has its song/ says Ulrich ; * go you your gait.' He 
takes her under a briar where there is a pretty damsel 
(who is quite superfluous). Hannchen lays her head in 
the damsel's lap and begins to weep. The damsel asks 
whether her weeping is for her f ather's gear, or because 
Ulrich is not good enough for her. It is not for her 
father's gear, and Ulrich is good enough. ' Is it, then,' 
says the damsel or Ulrich, ' for the stakes on which the 
eleven maidens are hanging ? Rely upon it, you shall 
be the twelfth ' She begs for three cries, which are 
addressed to God, her parents, and her brothers. The 
brothers hear, hasten to the wood, and encounter Ul- 
rich, who pretends to know nothing of their sister. His 
shoes are red with blood. 4 Why not?' says Ulrich, 
* I have shot a dove ' They know who the dove is. 
Hannchen is borne to the churchyard, Ulrich is strung 
up on the gallows No 23 of the same collection is X. 

4 Die schone Anna,* Bockel, Deutsohe Volksheder 
aus Oberhessen, p. 86, No 103, * Als die wunder- 
schone Anna,* Lewalter, Deutsche V. 1. in Nieder- 
hessen gesammelt, l f Heft, No 24, p. 51, and al&o No 
25, are fragmentary pieces, varieties of DD, I, 486 a 

37 b, 3d paragraph. A variety of A is printed 
in Altpreussisehe Monatschnft, N F., XXVIII, 632, 
1892, without indication of local derivation, ' Der Ritter 
und die Konigstochter.' The knight takes measures 
(not very summary ones) to drown himself. 

43 b (or 44 a), 488 a, III, 497 a, IV, 441 b Italian. 
Add Canti popolari Emihani by Maria Carmi, Archivio, 
XII, 178, No 2. 

44 b, 1 st paragraph. Add * El Mariner ' and ' Gio- 
vanina,' Villams, Canzoni p. Zaratine, in Archivio XI, 
33, 34, Nos 2, 3. 

58 B. A copy of * The Outlandish Knight,' with 
unimportant verbal variations, is given in English 
County Songs, by Lucy E. Broadwood and J. A. Fuller 
Maitland, p 164. 

Ill, 497 b A pair on horseback go a long way with- 
out speaking. A trait in Polish, French, and Italian 
versions of No 4. Add Munthe, Folkpoesi fran Astu- 
rien, p. 118 f., VII, A, 76 f., B, 70 f. (< Don Bueso,' 
Duran, I, btv, no hablara la nifla ) Dead lover and 
maid in Bartod, Nove" narodne pisnS moravske', p. 150. 
Lagus, Nylandske F. visor, * Rung Valdemo ' (= Ri- 
bold), No 1, a, 28, b, 18, Kampen Grimborg,' No 8, 
a, 21, b, 19. 

5. Gil Brenton. 

P. 62. In Traditionary Stories of Old Families, by 
Andrew Picken, 1838, I, 289, * The Three Maids of 
London,' occur the following stanzas : 

Seven pretty sisters dwelt in a bower, 
With a hey-down, and a ho-down 

And they twined the silk, and they workd the flower. 
Sing a hey-down and a ho-down 

And they began for seven years' wark, 

With a hey-down and a ho-down 
All for to make their dear loves a sark. 

With a hey down and a ho-down 

O three long years were passd and gone, 
And they had not finishd a sleeve but one. 

' O we '11 to the woods, and we '11 pull a rose,' 
And up they sprang all at this propose. 

(W. Macmath.) 

6. Willie's Lady. 

P. 82 a. * Barselkvinden/ three fragments, Kristen- 
sen, Folkeminder, XI, 42, No 23. 

85 b, 3d paragraph. Say, of the parish of Logierait. 

7. Earl Brand. 

P. 88, III, 498 b, IV, 443 a. Hr. Ribolt * Danish. 
Add Skattegraveren, VI, 17, No 257, 'Nacvnet til 
d0de,' Kristensen, Efterslaet til Skattegraveren, p. 81, 
No 76 , Folkeminder, XI, 36, No 22, A-D 

91 f. 489 b, III, 498 b, IV, 443 a. Swedish. [ Rid- 
borg,'] Thornasson, Visor fran Bleking, Nyare Bidrag, 
etc., VII, No 6, p 12, No 7. 

96 b. Danish. * Hertug Frydenborg,' Danmarks 
g. Folkeviser, No 305, V, II, 216. A a, b, h, n, o ; 
B b, c; E, k, 1; F b, c, e, f ; with diversities, the 
plant nearly always lilies. (A few of these, from Kris- 
tensen, have been already cited.) 

9. The Fair Flower of Northumberland. 

P 116. D. In a copy sent by Motherwell to C. K. 
Sharpe with a letter, October 8, 1825, this version is 
said to have been obtained from Mrs Nicol, of Paisley. 

117, 493 a. 

' The Heiress of Northumberland/ from C. K. Sharpens 
first collection, p 7. 

Sir W. Scott, commenting on this copy (to which he by 
mistake gives the title of The Stirrup of Northumberland), 
says " An edition considerably varied both from Riteon's 
and the present I have heard sung by the Miss Ty tiers of 
Woodhouselee. The tune is a very pretty lilt." Sharpe's 
Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 142. 

At the end of the ballad we are told Tradition's story is 
that the hero of this song was one of the Earls of Douglass, 
who was taken captive and pat in prison by Percy, Earl of 



16. Sheath and Knife. 

P. 185, HI, 500. In C. E. Sharped papers there is 
the following version, in MotherwelTs handwriting, 
sent by him to Sharpe with a letter dated Paisley, 8th 
October, 1825. 


' The Broom blooms bonnie,' from the recitation of Agnes 
Lyle, Kilbarchan. 

1 ' There is a feast in your father's house, 

The broom blooms bonnie, and so is it fair 
It becomes you and me to be very douce.' 
And we '11 never gang up to the broom nae 

2 ' Will you go to yon hill so hie, 

Take your bow and your arrow wi thee.' 

3 He 's tane his lady on his back, 
And his auld son in his coat-lap. 

4 ' When ye hear me give a cry, 

Ye '11 shoot your bow and let me ly. 

5 ' When ye see me lying still, 

Throw awa your bow and come running me 

6 When he heard her gie a cry, 

He shot his bow and he let her lye. 

7 When he saw she was lying still, 

He threw awa his bow and came running her 

8 It was nae wonder his heart was sad, 
When he shot his auld son at her head. 

9 He howkit a grave lang, large and wide, 
He buried his auld son down by her side. 

10 It was nae wonder his heart was sair, 

When he shooled the mools on her yellow hair. 

11 ' Oh,' said his father, < son, but thou 'it sad, 
At our braw meeting you micht be glad.' 

12 < Oh,' said he, < father, I Ve lost my knife, 
I loved as dear almost as my own life. 

13 'But I have lost a far better thing, 

I lost the sheathe that the knife was in.' 

14 * Hold thy tongue and mak nae din, 

I '11 buy thee a sheath and a knife therein/ 

15 ' A' the ships ere sailed the sea 

Neer '11 bring such a sheathe and knife to me. 

16 ' A' the smiths that lives on land 

Will neer bring such a sheath and knife to my 

HI, 500. B. Colonel W. F. Prideaux has printed 
this piece, from a manuscript of Motherwell's in his 
possession, in Notes and Queries, Eighth Series, I, 872, 
with the trifling variations (or confirmations of doubt- 
ful readings) here annexed. 

I 1 Ane. S 1 . we '11 hunt 

6 1 . let me doun by the rute o the. 

7*. And wanting : as ony. 

9*. faithless. 10 1 . The ae. 

17. Hind Horn. 

P. 196 a (7). Historia: Hertzog Heinrich der low, 
XVI, 221, of the edition of the Litt Verem in Stutt- 
gart, ed. Goetze, 228 vv. 

198 a. Tales. Add: Stier, Ungarische Volks- 
marchen, p. 53. 

198 b, 502 b, II, 499 b, IV, 450 b. ' Le retour du 
mari,' Pineau, Le Folk-Lore du Poitou, p. 885; La 
Tradition, VI, 207 f. 

199 b. Romaic. Add : Manousos, II, 73 ; Zu-ypajdot 
'Ay6v, p. 76, No 26. 

205. G. Kinloch has made numerous small changes. 
The ballad will now be given as first written down, 
Kinloch MSS, VII, 117. It appears to have been de- 
rived by Miss Kinnear from Christy Smith. 

1 ( Hynde Horn 's bound, love, and Hynde Horn 's 

Whare was ye born ? or frae what cuntrie V ' 

2 ' In gude green wud whare I was born, 
And all my friends left me forlorn. 

8 * I gave my love a gay gowd wand, 
That was to rule oure all Scotland. 

4 < My love gave me a silver ring, 
That was to rule abune aw thing. 

5 Whan that ring keeps new in hue, 
Ye may ken that your love loves you. 

6 * Whan that ring turns pale and wan, 

Ye may ken that your love loves anither man/ 



7 He hoisted up his sails, and away sailed he 
Till he cam to a foreign cuntree. 

8 Whan he lookit to his ring, it was turnd pale and 

Says, I wish I war at hame again. 

9 He hoisted up his sails, and hame sailed he 
Until he cam till his ain cuntree. 

10 The first ane that he met with, 

It was with a puir auld beggar-man. 

11 ' What news? what news, my puir auld man? 
What news hae ye got to tell to me? ' 

12 'Na news, na news/ the puinnan did say, 
* But this is our queen's wedding-day/ 

18 'Yell lend me your begging-weed, 
And I '11 lend you my riding-steed/ 

14 * My begging- weed is na for thee, 
Your riding-steed is na for me/ 

15 He has changed wi the puir auld beggar-man. 

16 < What is the way that ye use to gae? 
And what are the words that ye beg wi? ' 

1 7 ' Whan ye come to yon high hill, 
Ye'll draw your bent bow nigh until. 

18 ' Whan ye come to yon town-end, 
Ye '11 lat your bent )x>w low fall doun. 

19 Ye'll seek meat for St Peter, ask for St Paul, 
And seek for the sake of your Hynde Horn all. 

20 ' But tak ye frae nane o them aw 

Till ye get frae the bonnie bride hersel O.' 

21 Whan he cam to yon high hill, 
He drew hie bent bow nigh until 

22 And when he cam to yon toun-end, 
He loot his bent bow low fall doun. 

23 He sought for St Peter, he askd for St Paul, 
And he sought for the sake of his Hynde Horn all. 

24 But he took na frae ane o them aw 

Till he got frae the bonnie bride hersel O. 

25 The bride cam tripping doun the stain 
Wi the scales o red gowd on her hair. 

26 Wi a glass o red wine in her hand, 
To gie to the puir beggar-man. 

27 Out he drank his glass o wine. 
Into it he dropt the ring. 

28 'Got ye 't by sea, or got ye't by land, 
Or got ye 't aff a drownd man's hand ? ' 

29 <I got na't by sea, I got na't by land, 
Nor gat I it aff a drownd man's hand ; 

80 ' But I got it at my wooing, 
And I '11 gie it to your wedding. 

81 ' I '11 tak the scales o gowd frae my head, 
I '11 follow you, and beg my bread. 

82 'I '11 tak the scales o gowd frae my hair, 
I '11 follow you for evermair.' 

83 She has tane the scales o gowd frae her head, 
She 's followed him, to beg her bread. 

84 She has tane the scales o gowd frae her hair, 
And she has followd him evermair. 

35 Atween the kitchen and the ha, 
There he loot his cioutie cloak fa. 

36 The red gowd shined oure them aw, 

And the bride frae the bridegroom was stown awa. 

19. King Orfeo. 

P. 215. Professor Sophus Bugge maintains that the 
Scandinavian ballad ' Happens Kraft ' shows acquaint- 
ance with the English romance, and indeed, like the 
English ballad, is derived from it. (Arkiv for nordisk 
FJologi, VH, 97 ff., 1891.) 

20. The Cruel Mother. 

P. 218. Findlay's MSS, I, 58 i, derived from his 

1 I looked ower the castle-wa, 
Hey rose, ma lindie, O 

Saw twa bonnie babies playin at the ba. 
Doon in the green wood-sidie, O 

2 ( O bonnie babies, an ye were mine, 

I wad feid ye wi flour-breid an wine.' 

8 ' O cruel mother, when we were thine, 
You did not prove to us sae kin.' 

4 ' O bonnie babies, an ye were mine, 
I wad cleid ye wi scarlet sae fine.' 

5 ' O cruel mother, when we were thine, 
You did not prove to us sae fine. 



6 * For wi a penknife ye took our life 
And threw us ower the castle- wa.' 

7 ' bonnie babies, what wad ye hae dune to me 
For my bein sae cruel to thee ? ' 

8 * Seven yeare a fish in the flood, 
Seven yeare a bird in the wood. 

9 ( Seven yeare a tinglin bell, 
Seventeen yeare in the deepest hell.' 

Under the green wood-sidie, O 

219 b, 504 a, II, 500 a, III, 502 b, IV, 451 a. Add 
S, Deutsche Volksballaden aus Sudungarn, Grunn und 
Bardti, in Ethnologische Mitteilungen aus Ungarn, II, 
201, No 4, 1892. 

21. The Maid and the Palmer. 

P. 228. M. G. Doncieux has attempted to arrange 
41 Le cycle de Sainte Marie-Madelaine," in Revue des 
Traditions Populaires, VI, 257. 

22. St Stephen and Herod. 

P. 233 ff. * Stjiernevisen,' Knstensen, XI, 207, No 
76 A, B, has nothing about Stephen, but is confined to 
the scripture-history, piety, and New Year's wishes. 

P. 236 a, IV, 451 b. French. An imperfect French 
ballad in MeMusine, VI, 24, from a wood-cut ** at least 
three centuries old." 

Add a Piedmontese popular tale communicated by 
Count Nigra to the editor of Melusine, VI, 25 f. 

M. Gaidoz, at the same place, 26 f., cites two ver- 
sions of the resuscitation of the cock, from example- 
books. The first, from Erythraeus (i. e. Rossi), ch. CLV, 
p. 187, is essentially the same as the legend of St Gunther 
given from Acta Sanctorum (p. 239 a). The other, from 
the Giardino d' Essempi of Razzi, is the story told by 
Vincentius (p. 237, note t). 

25. Willie's Lyke-Wake. 

P. 250, II, 502 a, III, 503 a. Italian. Add . Canti 
pop. Emiliani, Maria Carmi, Archivio, XII, 187, No 9. 
A fragment in Dalmedico, Canti del popolo veneziano, 
p, 109, seems, as Maria Carmi suggests, to belong to this 

26. The Three Ravens. 

P. 253. It has already been noted that traditional 
copies of ' The Three Ravens ' have been far from infre- 
quent. When a ballad has been nearly three hundred 
years in print, and in a very impressive form, the 
chance that traditional copies, differing principally by 
what they lack, should be coeval and independent 
amounts at most to a bare possibility. Traditional 

copies have, however, sometimes been given in this col- 
lection on the ground of a very slight chance; and not 
unreasonably, I think, considering the scope of the 

The copy which follows was communicated by E L. 
K. to Notes and Queries, Eighth Series, II, 437, 1892, 
and has been sent me lately in MS. by Mr R. Bnmley 
Johnson, of Cambridge, England, with this note : 

" From E. Peacock, Esq , F. S. A., of Dunstan 
House, Kirton-in-Lindsay, Lincolnshire, whose father, 
born in 1 793, heard it as a boy at harvest-suppers and 
sheep-shearings, and took down a copy from the recita- 
tion of Harry Richard, a laborer, who could not read, 
and had learnt it ' from his fore-elders.' He lived at 
Northorpe, where a grass-field joining a little stream, 
called Ea, Ee, and Hay, is pointed out as the scene of 
the tragedy." 

1 There was three ravens in a tree, 
As black as any jet could be. 

A down a deny down 

2 Says the middlemost raven to his mate, 
Where shall we go to get ought to eat? 

3 ' It 's down in yonder grass-green field 
There lies a squire dead and killd. 

4 ' His horse all standing by his side, 
Thinking he '11 get up and ride. 

5 * His hounds all standing at his feet, 
Licking his wounds that run so deep.' 

6 Then comes a lady, full of woe, 
As big wi bairn as she can go. 

7 She lifted up his bloody head, 
And kissd his lips that were so red. 

8 She laid her down all by his side, 
And for the love of him she died. 

6 a . Var. child. 

27. The Whummil Bore. 

P. 255, Serving the king long without sight of his 
daughter Prof. Wollner notes that this trait is rather 
frequently found in Slavic. For example, in Karadzic', 
H, 617, No 96, YakSic" Mitar serves the vojvode Yanko 
nine years and never sees his sister. 

29. The Boy and the Mantle. 

P. 268 ff , II, 502 a, III, 503, IV, 454 a. Tests of 
chastity. On the Herodotean storv, I, 271, see E. 
Lefebure, Mdlusme, IV, 37-39. St Wilfred's Needle, 
in Ripon Minster. ' In ipso templo, avorum memoria 
Wilfridi acus celeberrima fuit. Id erat augustum in 



cryptoporticu foramen quo mulierum pudicitia ex pi or a- 
batur ; quce enim cast erant facile transibant, quee 
dubia fama nescio quo miraculo constrict detineban- 
tur.' Camden, Britannia, ed. 1607, p. 570; see Folk- 
Lore Journal, II, 286. (G. L. K.) 

31. The Marriage of Sir Gawain. 

P. 293. Mr Clouston, Originals and Analogues of 
some of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, p. 520 cites a pretty 
story from a modern Turkish author, in which, as so 
often happens, parts are reversed. A young king of 
the fairies of a certain realm is cursed by his mother 
to appear old and ugly until a fair mortal girl shall love 
him enough to miss hit, company. This comes to pass 
after forty years, and the ugly old man becomes a 
beautiful youth of seventeen. (Phantasms from the 
Presence of God, written in 1796-97 by 'Ali 'Aziz 
Efendi, the Cretan.) 

33. Kempy Kay. 

P. 301. A was communicated to C K. Sharpe by 
Robert Pitcairn with the stanzas in the order printed 
by Sharpe. The arrangement in A would seem, there- 
fore, to have been an afterthought of Pitcairn's. There 
is some slight difference of reading, also, in Pitcairn 's 
MS., and one defect is supplied. The variations in the 
copy sent Sharpe are (besides the order, as aforesaid) 
as follows 

2 1 . I 'm coming 2 4 . o weir 

8 4 . three heire wanting. 4 4 . Shone 5 a . bruchty. 

5 8 . the night. 6 8 And in. 7 4 . Between. 

9 4 . a lintseed bow (with the variant a bruchtit ewe) 

10 1 lauchty. 10 4 A' wanting 12 8 . teeth into. 

IS 2 , sheets (no doubt erroneously). A stanza be- 
tween 8 and 9 is noted as deficient, and something 
ajler 13. 

303. C. In a copy of C sent Sharpe by Motherwell 
in a letter of December 6, 1824, the fourth stanza is 
lacking, the fifth is third. 

8 8 . span years. 5 2 . stool 

1 Knip Knap/ taken down in the summer of 1893 by 
Mr Walker, of Aberdeen, at Portlethen, from the sing- 
ing of an old man, as learned more than fifty jears 
before from an old blacksmith at Dyce, near Aberdeen. 

1 Knip Knap a hunting went, 

Out-ower the head o yon hill, aye, aye 
Wi a lust o pig-staves out-oer his shouther, 
An mony a dulchach foiby, aye, aye 

2 There he met an old woman, 

Was herdm at her kye ; 
1 1 'm come yer ae dochter to woo,* 
* She 's a very good servant,' said I. 

3 The wife gaed hame to her ain hole-house, 

Look it in at her am spunk-hole, 
An there she saw her am foul flag, 
Loupin across the coal. 

4 * Win up, win up, my ae foul flag, 

An mak yer foul face clean, 
For yer wooer is comin here the nicht, 
But yer foul face canna be seen, na, na ' 

5 She 's taen the sheave-wisps out o her sheen, 

An in behint the door, 
An she has faen to the stale strang, 
Seven year auld an more. 

6 An aye she scrubbit, an aye she weesh, 

Out-ower the pint o her chin, 
Till a knip-knap cam to the door, 
She kent it was her wooer. 

7 He 's taen her in his airms twa, 

Kissd her cheek an chin . 
' An I hae gotten kisses twa, 
Whaur I never thocht to get ane.' 

8 The verra hair was in her head 

Was like the heather-cowe, 
An ilka louse at the reet o that 
Was like a brockit ewe. 

9 The verra ee was in her head 

Was like a muckle pan, 

The hunkers and clunkers that hang frae her sheen 
Wad hae covered an acre o Ian, 

10 The verra teeth was in her head 

Was like a tether's check, 

An the sneeters and snotters that hang frae her nose 
Wad a gart a frozen mill gang. 

11 The verra tongue was in her head 

Wad been a guid mill-clap, 


An ye may know very weel by that . 
She was a comely woman. 

34. Kemp Owyne. 

P 309. From a manuscript collection of Charles 
Kirkpatnck Sharpe's, p. 2 ; " Second Collection," see 
Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p 144. This copy 
closely resembles A. 

1 Her mother died when she was young, 
And was laid in the silent tomb ; 



The father weded the weel worst woman 
This day that lives in Christendom. 

2 She served her with hands and feet. 

In every way that well could be, 
Yet she did once upon a day 

Throw her in over a craig of sea. 

8 Says, Ly you there, you dove Isabeal, 

And let you never borrowed be 
Till Kempenwine come ower the sea 
And borrow you with kisses three ; 
Whatever any may do or say, 

borrowed may you never be I 

4 Her breath grew strong, and her hair grew long, 

And twisted thrice about a tree, 
And so hideous-hke she did apear 

That all who saw her from her did flee. 

5 Now Kempenwine gat word of this 

Where he was living beyond the sea ; 
He hied him straight unto that shoar, 
The monstrous creature for to se. 

6 Her breath was strong, and her hair was long, 

And twisted was around the tree, 
And with a swing she cried aloud, 
Come to craig of sea and kiss with me. 

7 * Here is a royal ring, ' she cried, 

* That I have found in the green sea, 
And while your finger it is on 

Drawn shall your blood never be ; 
But if you touch me, tail or fin, 

1 vow this brand your death shall be/ 

8 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, 

The royal nng he brought him wi ; 
Her breath was strong, and [her] hair was long, 

Tet twisted twice about the tree, 
And with a swing she came about, 

4 Come to craig of sea and kiss with me. 

9 * Here is a royal belt,' she cried, 

' That I have found in the green sea, 
And while your body it is on 

Drawn shall your blood never be ; 
But if you touch me, tail or fin, 

I vow this brand your death shall be." 

10 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, 

The royal belt he brought him wee ; 
Her breath yet strong, her hair yet long, 

Yet twisted once about the tree, 
And with a swing she came about, 

1 Come to craig of sea and kiss with me. 

11 ' Here is a royal brand/ she cried, 

' That I have found in the green sea, 

And while your body it is on 

Drawn shall your blood never be ; 

But if you touch me, tail or fin, 
I vow my brand your death shall be.' 

12 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, 

The royal brand he brought him wee ; 

Her breath now soft, her hair now short, 
And disengaged from the tree, 

She fell into his arms two, 

As fair a woman as ever could be. 

Written in long lines, and not divided into stanzas. 
8 8 . him with. 6 4 , 8 6 , I O 6 . Craig of sea. 

35. Allison Gross. 

P. 314. Gifts offered by a hill-maid. * Bjjergjom- 
fruens Frieri,' Kristensen, Skattegraveren, II, 100, No 
460 , XII, 22 ff., Nos 16, 17 ; Folkeminder, XI, 20 ff., 
No 18, A-E. 

36. The Laily Worm and the Maokrel of 
the Sea. 

P. 315. Though Skene has rendered this ballad 
with reasonable fidelity, for an editor, it shall, on ac- 
count of its interest, be given as it stands in the old 
lady's MS., where it is No 2. It proves not absolutely 
true, as I have said, that the Skene ballad has " never 
been retouched by a pen." 

1 * I was bat seven year alld 

Fan my miJer she did dee, 
My father marred the ae warst woman 
The wardle did ever see. 

2 ' For she has made me the lailly worm 

That lays att the fitt of the tree, 
An o my sister Meassry 
The machrel of the sea. 

8 * An every Saterday att noon 

The machrl comes ea to me, 
An she takes my layle head, 

An lays it on her knee, 
An keames it we a silver kemm, 

An washes it in the sea. 

4 ( Seven knights ha I slain 

Sane I lay att the fitt of the tree ; 
An ye war na my ain father, 
The eight an ye sud be.' 

5 * Sing on your song, ye l[a]ily worm, 

That ye sung to me ; ' 
' 1 never sung that song 
But fatt I wad sing to ye. 



6 * I was but seven year aull 

Fan my mider she [did] dee, 
My father marred the a warst woman 
The wardle did ever see. 

7 l She changed me to the layelfy] worm 

That layes att the fitt of the tree, 
An ray sister Messry 

[To] the makrell of the sea 

8 * And every Saterday att noon 

The machrell comes to me, 
An she takes my layly head, 

An layes it on her knee, 
An kames it weth a siller kame, 

An washes it in the sea. 

9 ' Seven knights ha I slain 

San I lay att the fitt of the tree ; 
An ye war na my ain father, 
The eight ye sud be.* 

10 He sent for his lady 

As fast as sen cod he 
' Far is my son, 

That ye sent fra me, 
And my daughter, 

Lady Messry ? ' 

1 1 ' Yer son is att our king's court, 

Sarving for meatt an fee, 
And yer dough ter is att our qum's court, 
A mary suit an free.' 

1 2 * Ye lee, ye ill woman, 

Sa loud as I hear ye lea, 
For my son is the layelly worm 

That lays at the fitt of the tree, 
An my daughter Messry 

The machreil of the sea ' 

13 She has tain a silver wan 

An gine him stroks three, 
An he started up the bravest knight 
Your eyes did ever see. 

14 She has tane a small horn 

An loud an shill blue she, 
An a' the came her tell but the proud machrell, 

An she stood by the sea 
' Ye shaped me ance an unshemly shape, 

An ye 'B never mare shape me.' 

15 He has sent to the wood 

For hathorn an fun, 
An he has tane that gay lady, 
An ther he did her burne. 

Written without division into stanzas or verses. 

8*. comes ea (aye) ; but, on repetition in 8 a , comes 

simply, tnth better metre. 
15 1 . hes has. 15 8 . that that. 

816. ' Nattergalen,' in Kristensen, Folk e minder, 
XI, 25, No 20, A-G. 

In a Kaffir tale a girl marries a crocodile. The croc- 
odile bids her lick his face. Upon her doing so, the 
crocodile casts his skin and turns into a strong and 
handsome man. He had been transformed by the ene- 
mies of his father's house (Theal, Kaffir Folk-Lore, 
1882, p. 87, cited by Mr Clouston.) 

39. Tarn Lin. 

P. 839. Teind to hell See Isabel Gowdie's case, 
in the Scottish Journal, I, 256, and compare Pitcairn'a 
Criminal Trials. 

345. D a. This copy occurs in " the second collec- 
tion " of Charles Kirkpatnck Sharpe, p. 3, with a few 
variations, as follows. (See Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. 
1880, p. 145.) 

I 8 Charters wood, anil always. 3 1 the seam. 

3 8 . is gone 5 2 . ye. 6 4 ask no. 10 4 we have 

II 1 . to me. 12*. aft 12 8 the Lord of Forbes. 

12 4 alibis. 1 5 occurs after 24 15 1 Tho Elfin. 

15 4 . the tenth one goes 15 6 . I am an, or, I a man. 

16 6 . if that. 16. miles Cross. 

17 1 . go unto the Miles cross. 20*. next the. 

23 1 , 24 1 . int 251. She did her down 

27 a so green. 27 8 Where 27 4 ride next. 

28*. he is. 29 4 . He 32 2 and cry 

34 1 . I thought. 

40. The Queen of Elfan's Nourice. 

P 358, H, 505 b, III, 505 b, IV, 459 a. Mortal mid- 
wife for fairies. * La Sage-femme et la Fde,' R Basset, 
Contes pop berberes, 1887, No 26, p 55 (and see notes, 
pp.162, 163). (G. L. K ) 

41. Hind Etin. 

P. 361 b, III, 506 a, IV, 459 a Danish. <Jom- 
fruen i Bjserget,' fragment, in Kmtensen, Folke- 
mmder, XI, 6, No 12 

364 a, III, 506 a, IV, 459 a. Danish. Agnete og 
Havmanden,' Kristensen, Skattegraveren, III, p. 17, 
No 34, XII, 65 ff., Nos 136, 137 , Efterslset, p. 2, No 2, 
p. 174, No 126 , Folkemmder, XI, 7, No 18, A-D. 

42. Clerk Colvill. 

P. 371, No 42, p. 389. C in Findlay MSS, I, 141 
' Clerk Colin,' from Miss Butchart, Arbroath, 1868. 
Miss Butchart, who died about 1890, aged above ninety 
years, was the daughter of the Mrs Butchart from 
whom Kinloch got certain ballads, and niece to the 
Mrs Arrot who was one of Jamieson's contributors. In 
the MS. there are these readings : 



2*. To gang. 4*. maun gae. 5*. could gang. 
6. To Clyde's. 

374 b, IV, 459 a. Danish. ' Elveskud,' Kristensen, 
Skattegraveren, XII, 54, No 125 ; ' Elvedansen,' Folke- 
minder, XI, 15, No 17, A-C, 

880, II, 506 a, III, 506 a, IV, 459 a. TT, La chan- 
son de Renaud,' Pineau, Le Folk-Lore du Poitou, 
p. 399 ; UU, ' La Mort de Jean Raynaud, Wallonia, 

W, WW. Versions de la Bresse, one, and a frag- 
ment, J. Tiersot, Revue des Traditions Populaires, 
VII, 654 ff. 

S82, II, 506 a, III, 506 a. Italian. N. 'El conte 
Anzolin,' Villanis, Canzoni pop. Zaratine, Arcbivio, XI, 
32. A burlesque form in Canti pop. Ermliani, Maria 
Carmi, Arcbivio, XII, 186, and a Venetian rispetto of 
the same character (noted by Maria Carmi) in Bernoni, 
Canti pop. Veneziani, 1873, Puntata 7, p. 12, No 62. 

44. The Twa Magicians. 


P. 400 a, III, 506 b, IV, 459 b. French. Y. 
Transformations,' Wallonia, I, 50. 

401 b, 3d paragraph. Say: Cosquin, Contes lor- 
rains, I, 103, No 9, and notes. 

402 a, last paragraph, Gwion. See the mabinogi of 
Taliesin in Lady Charlotte Guest's Mabinogion, Part 
VII, p. 358 f. 

46. King John and the Bishop. 

P. 405 b, H, 506, IV, 459 b. Another Magyar ver- 
sion in Zs. f. vergleichende Literaturgeschichte, N. F. 
V, 467. 

46. Captain Wedderburn's Courtship. 

P. 414. Rev. J. Baring-Gould informs me that there is 
an Irish version of this piece in Ulster Ballads, British 
Museum, 1162. k. 6, entitled ( The Lover's Riddle.' The 
lady, who in B, C is walking through the wood ' her lane/ 
is in the Ulster copy walking ' down a narrow lane,' 
and she meets ' with William Dicken, a keeper of the 
game.' The only important difference as to the riddles 
and the answers is that the young lady remembers her 
Bible to good purpose, and gives Melchisedec as an ex- 
ample of a priest unborn (Hebrews vii, 3). 

415, note f. Miss M. H. Mason gives two copies in 
her Nursery Rhymes and Country Songs, pp. 23, 24, 
A Paradox.' 

41 7, note f, II, 507 b, III, 507 a, IV, 459 b. They 
were told that in front of the king's house there 
were twenty-score poles, with a head on each pole with 
the exception of three." ' The Lad with the Skin Cov- 
erings,' J. G. Campbell, The Fians, p. 261. (There 
are three adventurers in this case.) (G. L. K.) 

421. B. h. 'CaptianWederburn,'" The Old Lady's 
Collection," No 88. 

B. a. 1 The lard of Roslie's doughter was walking on 

the green, 
An by came Captain Wederburn, a servant 

to our king, 
An he said to his livery-man, Wer it no 

agenst our laa, 
I wad take her to my ain bed an lay her neast 

the waa. 

a. 2 ' I am in my father's garden, walken among 

my father's trees, 
An ye dou latt me walk a whill nou, kind 

sir, if ye pleas ; 
For the supper-heals they will be rung an I 

will be mised awa, 

a. 4*. An my father will ate nae supper gine I be 
raised awa.' 

a. 6. He lighted off his hors an sett the lady one, 

A. a. 6 1 ' 8 . He sett her ahind his livery-man, was leath 
to latt her faa : 

A. a. 5 4 . * We 's baith lay in ae bed, an ye 's lay neast 

the wa.' 

B. a. 7 Fan they came to his quarter-house, his land- 

l[ad]y came ben 

1 Ther is mony bonny lady in Edenbrugh toun, 
Bat sick a bonny lady is no in it aa ; ' 
Says, ' Lass, mak up a doun-bed, we will lay 

her nist the waa.' 

a. 8 * Hold yer toung, young man,' she says, ' an 

latt yer folly be ; 

I winne come to my bed till ye gett to me 
things three. 

a. 9 'Ye gett to my supper a cherrey without a 

An ye gett to my suppeer a chiken without a 

An ye gett to my super a burd that flayes 

without a gaa, 
Or I winne lay in your bed, nether att stok 

nor waa. ' 

a. 10 ' The cherry when it is in the bloum, it is with- 
out a ston ; 

The chiken when it is in the egg is without a 
bon ; 

The dove she is a harmless burd, she flays 
without a gaa ; 

An we 's baith lay in ae bed, an ye 's lay nist 
the waa.' 

a. 15 ( Hold off yer hands, young man,' she says, 
an dou not me perplex ; 



I winne gae to my bed till ye tell me qustens 

a. 16 'What is greaner nor the grass? what is 

hig[h]er the[n] the tree ? 
What is war nor woman's wish v what is deaper 

nor the sea? 
What burd sings first? what life buds first, an 

what doson itfaa? 
I winne lay in your bed, nether att stok nor 


a. 1 7 ' Death is greaner nor the grass ; heaven is 

higher nor the tree ; 
The devill is war nor woman's wish ; hell is 

deaper nor the sea ; 
The coke crous first ; the suderen wood springs 

first, the due dos on it faa ; 
An we 's baith lay in ae bed, an ye 's lay neast 

the waa.' 

a. 11 * Hold off yer hands, young man/ she says, 

* an yer folly gie our, 

I winne come to your bed till ye gett to me 
things four ; 

a. 12 4 Ye gett to me a cherry that in December 

grou ; 
Leguays a fine silk mantell that waft gad 

never tlirou ; 
A sparrou's horn, a prist unborn, this night 

to join us tua ; 
Or I winne lay in your bed, nether att stok 

nor waa.' 

a. 18 ' Ther is a hote-bed in ray father's garden 

wher winter chirrys grou, 
Lequays a fine silk mantell in his closet which 
waft never gaid throu ; 

a. 14 'Ther is a prist nou att the dore, just ready 

to come in, 

An never one could say he was born, 
For ther was a holl cut out of his mother's 

side, an out of it he did faa ; 
An we 's baith lay in ae bed, an ye 's lay nist 

the waa.' 

a. 18 Littel kent the lassie in the morning fan she 


That wad be the last of a' her maiden days ; 
For nou she is marred to Captian Wederburn, 
that afore she never saa, 

An they baith lay in ae bed, an she lays nest 
the waa. 

7*. Lays, Lass. 10 1 . bloun. 12 1 . grous. 

49. The Twa Brothers. 

P. 436 a, 3d paragraph. It ought to have been re- 
marked that it was a William Somerville that killed 
John. The names being the same as in the ballad, 
" unusually gratuitous " is not warranted. 

438. A was derived by Sharpe from Elizabeth 
Kerry. The original copy was not all written at one 
time, but may have been written by one person. The 
first and the last stanza, and some corrections, are in 
the same hand as a letter which accompanied the 
ballad. The paper has a watermark of 1817. A few 
trifling differences in the MS. may be noted: 

I 1 , twa, 

I 9 , school (Note. "I have heard it called the 

Chase ") : the githar. 

1*. a far. 2 l . wrestled. 4 4 . And. 5 1 . brother. 
6. both. 72, 8 2 , 9 2 . Should for Gin. 
8 1 . what shall. 1 1 . But wanting. 
10*. in fair Kirkland. (Letter. " I remembered a 

fair Kirk something, and Kirkland it must have 

ID 4 , again wanting. 

1 Perthshire Tredgey.' From a copy formerly in the pos- 
session of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe This fragment has 
some resemblances to F. " Copied 1823 '' is endorsed on 
the sheet (in the hand which made an insertion in st. 11) 
and crossed out. 

1 Two pretty boys lived in the North, 

The went to the school BO rare ; 
The one unto the other said, 
We '11 try some battle of war. 

2 The worselaid up, the worselaid down, 

Till John lay on the ground ; 
A pen-knife out of William's pocket 
Gave John a deadly wound. 

3 is it for my gold ? J he said, 

* Or for my rich monie ? 
Or is it for my land sa broad, 
That you have killed me ? ' 

4 * It 's neither for your gold/ he said, 

( Or for your rich monie, 
But it is for your land sa broad 
That I have killed thee.' 



5 * Too 11 take [me] up upon your back, 

Carry me to Wastlen kirk-yard ; 
You 'ill houk a hole large and deep, 
And lay my body there. 

6 ' You '11 put a good stone ou my head, 

Another at my feet, 
A good green turf upon my breast, 
That the sounder I m[a]y sleep. 

7 ' And if my father chance to ask 

What 's come of your brother John, 

8 ' What blood is this upon your coat ? 

I pray come tell to me ; ' 
* It is the blood of my grey hound, 
It would not run for me/ 

9 * The blood of your greyhound was near so red, 

I pray come tell to me ; ' 
( It is the blood of my black horse, 
It would not hunt for me/ 

10 * The blood of your black horse was near so red, 

I pray come tell to me ; ' 
' It is the blood of my brother John, 
Since better canna be. 1 

11 He put his foot upon a ship, 

Saying, I am gane our the sea; 
* when will yon come back again, 
I pray come tell to me.' 

12 * When the sun and the moon passes over the 

That ['8] the day you '11 never see.' 

2 1 . worse laid, misheard for warseled. 

3'. lands abroad for land sae broad (mis- 

4 1 . After your, la and half of an n, Ian caught 

4*. land abroad. The reciter, or more proba- 
bly the transcriber, has become confirmed in 
the error made in 3 . 

11 s . come inserted in a different hand. 

II" should probably be the first half of 
stanza IZ. 

60. The Bonny Hind. 

P. 444 a. Motherwell MS., p. 485, professes to copy 
the ballad from Herd's MS. by way of supplying the 
stanzas wanting in Scott. There are, however, in 
Motherwell's transcript considerable deviations from 
Herd, a fact which I am unable to understand. 

53. Young Beiohan. 

P. 454. 'Lord Beichim,' Findlay's MSS, I, 1, from 
Jeanie Meldrum, Framed rum, Forfarshire, has these 
verses, found in Q and in Spanish and Italian ballads. 

(" She meets a shepherd and addresses him.") 

1 Whas are a' thae flocks o sheep? 

And whas are a' thae droves o kye? 
And whas are a* thae statelie mansions, 

That are in the way that I passd bye? ' 

' O these are a' Lord Beichim's sheep, 
And these are a* Lord Beichim's kye, 

And these are a' Lord Beichim's castles, 
That are in the way that ye passd bye.' 

There are three or four stanzas more, but they re- 
semble the English vulgar broadsides. There must 
have been a printed copy in circulation in Scotland 
which has not been recovered. 

468. D is now given as it stands in "The Old 
Lady's Collection," from which it was copied by 
Skene : ' Young Beachen,' No. 14. 

1 Young Beachen as born in fair London, 

An foiren lands he langed to see, 
An he was tean by the savage Mour, 
An they used him mast cruely. 

2 Throu his shoulder they patt a bore, 

An throu the bore they patt a tree, 
An they made him tralle ther onsen-carts, 
An they used him most cruelly. 

3 The savige More had ae doughter, 

I wat her name was Susan Pay, 
An she is to the prison-house 
To hear the prisenor's mone. 

4 He made na his mone to a stok, 

He made it no to a ston, 
But it was to the Quin of Heaven, 
That he made his mone. 

5 ' Gine a lady wad borron me, 

Att her foot I wad rune, 
An a widdou wad borrou me, 
I wad becom her sone. 



6 ' Bat an a maid wad borrou me, 

I wad wed her we a ring, 

I wad make her lady of haas an hours, 

An of the high tours of Line.' 

7 ' Sing our yer sang, Young Bichen,' she says, 

* Sing our yer sang to me ; ' 

I 1 never sang that sang, lady, 
Bat fat I wad sing to ye. 

8 ' An a lady wad borrou me, 

Att her foot I wad rune, 
An a widdou wad borrou me, 
I wad becom her son. 

9 ' Bat an a maid wad borrou me, 

I wad wed her we a ring, 
I wad mak her lady of haas an hours, 
An of the high tours of Line.' 

10 Saftly gaid she but, 

An saftly gaid she ben ; 
It was na for want of hose nor shone, 
Nor time to pit them on. 


An she has stoun the kees of the prison, 
An latten Young Beachen gang. 

12 She gae him a lofe of her whit bread, 

An a bottel of her wine, 
She bad him mind on the leady's love 
Tbat fread him out of pine. 

18 She gae him a stead was gued in time of nead, 

A sadle of the bone, 
Five hundred poun in his poket, 
Bad him gae spending home. 

14 An a lish of gued gray bonds, 

15 Fan seven lang year wer come an gane, 

Shusie Pay thought lang, 
An she is on to fair London, 
As fast as she could gang. 

16 Fan she came to Young Beachen's gate, 

' Is Young Beachen att home, 
Or is he in this country? ' 

17 < He is att home, 

[H]is bearly bride him we ; ' 
Sighan says her Suse Pay, 
' Was he quit forgoten me? ' 

18 On every finger she had a ring, 

An on the middel finger three ; 
She gave the porter on of them, 
4 Gett a word of your lord to me.' 

19 He gaed up the stare, 

Fell lau doun on his knee : 
4 Win up, my proud porter, 
What is your will we [me] ? ' 

20 ' I ha ben porter att your gate 

This therty year an three ; 
The fairest lady is att yer gate 
Mine eays did ever see.' 

21 Out spak the brid's mother, 

An a haghty woman was she ; 
4 If ye had not excepted the bonny brid, 
Ye might well ha excepted me.' 

22 ' No desparegment to you, madam, 

Nor non to her grace ; 

The sol of yon lady's foot 

Is fairer then yer face.' 

28 He 's geen the table we his foot, 

An caped it we his knee : 
1 1 wad my head an a' my land 
It's Susie Pay come over the sea.' 

24 The stare was therty steps, 

I wat he made them three ; 
He toke her in his arms tua, 
4 Susie Pay, y 'er welcom to me! ' 

25 4 Gie me a shive of your whit bread, 

An a bottel of your wine ; 
Dinner ye mind on the lady's love 
That freed ye out of pine? ' 

26 He took her 

Doun to yon garden green, 
An changed her name fra Shusie Pay, 
An called her bonny Lady Jean. 

27 4 Yer daughter came hear on high hors-back, 

She sail gae hame in coaches three, 
An I sail dubel her tocher our, 
She is nean the war of me.' 

28 * It 's na the fashon of our country, 

Nor yet of our name, 
To wed a may in tbe morning 
An send her hame att none.' 

29 * It 's na the fashon of my country, 

Nor of my name, 

Bat I man mind on the lady's love 
That freed me out of pine.' 



5 I att her foot I : cf. 8. 9. tours : cf. 6* 
IS 4 , spending. 17*. Sigh an. 18 a . niddeL 
After 29: 

Courtes kind an generse mind, 

An winne ye ansur me? 
An fan they hard ther lady's word, 

Well ansuared was she. 

P. 476, II, 508. L. For the modern vulgar ballad, 
Catnach's is a better copy than that of Pitts. See 
Kidson, Traditional Tunes, p. 34, for Catnach. 

54. The Cherry-Tree Carol. 

P. 1 b. (Apple tree.) Chanson de la Correze, 
Mdlusine, VI, 40. 

55. The Carnal and the Crane. 
P. 7. The Sower : La Tradition, VII, 312. 

56. Dives and Lazarus. 

P. 10 b, IV, 462 b. 'Lazare et le mauvais riche,' 
I/Abbe* Durdy, Anthologie pop. de 1'Albret, Poe'sies 
gasconnes, p. 6. 

Esthonian, Hurt, Vana Kannel, II, 210, No 296. 

57. Brown Robyn's Confession. 

P. 13 b, IV, 463 a. Danish. Sejladsen,' Kristen- 
sen, Efterslset til Skattegraveren, p. 22, No 18, p. 161 
ff., Nos 116, 117 ; Folkeminder, XI, 148, No 57. 

15 b. For Sadko, see Vesselofsky in Archiv fur sla- 
vische Philologie, IX, 282. 

58. Sir Patrick Spens. 

P. 1 7. Among Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpens papers 
there is a copy of this ballad, which, from its being en- 
tirely in Sharpens hand excepting the first line, we may 
suppose to have been intended as a reply to some per- 
son who had inquired for a ballad so beginning. This 
copy is mainly compounded, with a word altered here 
and there, from D (which Sharpe gave Mot her we 11), ten 
stanzas of H, and two resembling L 2, 3. The Sir 
Andrew Wood of D is changed to Sir Patrick Spens, 
and there is this one stanza which I have not observed 
to occur elsewhere, following D 7, or H 21 : 

O laith, laith war our gude Scots lords 
To weet their silken Barks, 

But lang or a' the play was playd 
The weet gade to their hearts. 

62. Fair Annie. 

P. 65 a. Daniah. Skjon Anna, 1 Kristensen, Folke- 
minder, XI, 91, No 92. 

63. Child Waters. 

P. 83. Fair Ellen,' from " The Old Lady's Collec- 
tion," No 30, a version resembling J. The first two 
stanzas belong to 'Glasgerion; ' compare No 67, C, 1, 
2, II, 140. 

1 Willie was a harper guid, 

He was a harper fine ; 
He harped the burds out of the tree, 

The fish out of the flood, 
The milk out of a woman's brist 

That bab had never nean. 

2 He harped out, an he harped in, 

Till he harped them a* aslep, 
Unless it was her Fair Elen, 
An she stood on her feett. 

3 Willie stod in stabile dor, 

He said he wad ride, 

4 ' Na women mane gae we me, Hellen, 

Na women mane gaie we me 
Bat them that will saddle my hors, 

An bridell my steed, 
An elky toun that I come to 
A lish of hons mane lead.' 

6 ' I will saddle yer hors, Willie, 

An I will bridel yer steed, 
An elky toun att we come tell 
A leash of bonds will lead/ 

6 ' The dogs sail eat the gued fite bread, 

An ye the doue" pran, 
An ye sail bliss, an na curse, 
That ever ye lied a man/ 

7 < The dogs sail eat the whit bread, 

An me the done* pran, 
An I will bliss, an na curs, 
That ear I loved a man/ 



8 She has saddled his hors, 

An she has bridled his stead, 
An ealky toun att they came throu 
A lish of bonds did lead. 

9 The dogs did eatt the whit bread, 

An her the douey pran, 
An she did bliss, an she did na curs, 
That ever she loyed a man. 

10 Fan they came to yon wan water 

That a* man caas Clayd, 
He louked over his left shoder, 
Says, Ellen, will ye ride ? 

11 ' I learned it in my medder's hour, 

I wiss I had learned it better, 
Fan I came to wane water 
To sume as dos the otter. 

12 1 1 learned in my midder's bour, 

I watt I learned it well, 

Fan I came to wan water, 

To some as dos the ell.' 


Or the knight was in the middell of the water, 
The lady was in the eather side. 

14 She leaned her back to a stane, 

Gaa a call opon : 
' O my back is right sore, 
An I sae fan f rae hame ! 

15 ' Hou monny mill ha ye to rid, 

An hou mony I to rine ? ' 
< Fifty mill ha I to rid, 

Fifty you to rine, 
An by that time I dou supos 

Ye will be a dead woman.' 

16 Out spak a bonny burd, 

Sate on yon tree, 
1 Gaa on, fair Ellen, 
Te ha scarcly milles three.' 

17 Four-an-tuenty bony ladys 

Mett Willie in the close, 
Bat the fairest lady among them a' 
Took Willie frae his horse. 

18 Four-an-tuenty bonny ladys 

Lead Willie to the table, 

Bat the fairest lady among them a' 
Led his hors to the stable. 

19 She leaned betuen the gray folle an the waa, 

An gae a call opon ; 
' O my back is f ue sore, 
An I sae far fra home ! 

20 ' Fan I was in my father's bour, 

I ware goud to my hell ; 
Bat nou I am among Willie's hors feet, 
An the call it will me kell. 

21 * Fan I was in my midder's hour 

I wear goud to my head ; 
Bat nou I am among Willie's hors feet, 
And the calle will be my dead.' 

22 ' Fatten a heavey horse-boy, my son Willie, 

Is this ye ha brought to me ? 
Some times he grous read, read, 

An some times paill an wane ; 
He louks just leak a woman we bairn, 

An no weis es leak a man.' 

23 < Gett up, my heavey hors-boy, 

Gie my hors corn an hay ; ' 
i By my soth,' says her Fair Ellen, 
* Bat as fast as I may.' 

24 ' I dreamed a dream san the straine, 

Gued read a' dreams to gued ! 
I dreamed my stable-dor was opned 

An stoun was my best steed. 
Ye gae, my sister, 

An see if the dream be gued.' 


She thought she hard a baby greet, 
Bat an a lady mono. 


* I think I hard a baby greet. 
Bat an a lady mone.' 

27 < A askend, Willie,' she says, 

1 An ye man grant it me ; 

The warst room in a' yer house 

To your young son an me.' 

28 ['Ask on, Fair Ellen, 

Yo 'r sure yer asken is free ;] 



The beat room in a' my house 
To yer young son an ye.' 

29 * [A] asken, Willie/ she sayes, 

' An ye will grant it me ; 
The smallest bear in yer house 
To [yer] young son an me.' 

30 ' Ask on, Fair Ellen, 

Ye 'r sure your asken is free ; 
The best bear in my house 
[To yer young son an ye.] 

31 ' The best bear in my house 

Is the black bear an the wine, 
An ye sail haa that, Fair Ellen, 
To you an yer young son.' 

32 [A] askent, Willie,' she says, 

' An ye will grant [it] me ; 
The warst maid in yer house 
To wait on yer young son an me.' 

33 ' The best maid in my house 

Is my sister Meggie, 
An ye sail ha her, Fair Ellen, 
To wait on yer young son an ye. 

34 'Chire up, Fair Ellen, 

Chire up, gin ye may ; 
Yer kirking an yer fair weding 
Sail baith stand in ae day.' 

I 6 , bab have. 

3 2 . bide. Cf. B 3, 01, 1 1, J 1. 20*. I an. 

20*. me gell. 21*. my hell again. 

21*. And an. 30*. sure yours. 

64. Fair Janet. 

P. 102. (See III, 497 b, No 5.) Add : * La Fiancee 
du Prince,' Revue des Traditions Populaires, VIII, 
406-409, two versions. 

66. Lady Maisry. 

P. 114. A. The variations in the Abbotsford MS. 
11 Scottish Songs " are of the very slightest value ; but 
as the MS. is in Scott's hand, and as Scott says that 
they were from his recollection of recitation in the 
south of Scotland, they may be given for what they are 
worth. (See the note, IV, 887.) 
1 Lady Maiserye,' fol. 84, back. 
I 9 . Are a'. I 4 , she 11 hae. 2, 8, wanting. 
4M. They woo'd her up, they woo'd her doun, 
They woo'd her in the ha. 

5 1 . my lords, she said. 5*. on me. 

5 4 . And I have na mair to gie. 

6 1 . father's wily page. 

6*. For he has awa to her bauld brother. 

7 1 . O are my father and mother. 7 3 . brethren. 

8 1 . are weel. 8 a . Likewise your brethren. 

8 4 . But she 's shamed thy name and thee. 

9 1 . true, thou little page. 

9 2 . A bluidy sight thou 's see. 9*. thou tells, 
9 4 . High hanged sail thou be. 

10 1 . O he has gane to. 10 4 . Kaming. 
11.4 stanza with " modern " in the margin. 
12 1 . The lady turnd her round about. 
12*. The kame fell. 
12* 4 . The bluid ran backward to her heart 

And left her cheek sae wan. 
18. * O bend nae sae, my dear brother, 

Tour vengefu look on me ! 
My love is laid on Lord William, 

And he is married to me.' 
14 1 . ye hae gotten knights and lords. 
14 a . Within. 14 8 . drew. 15 1 . your English love. 
15 8 . For shouldst think of him an hour langer. 
15 4 . Thy. 16 1 . I wad gie up my English love. 
16*. or an hour. 
After 16 this stanza, not marked " modern : " 

' Ah, faithless woman, trow nae sae 

My just revenge to flee, 
For a' your English lordling's power, 

Our ancient enemy.' 

17 l . where are a' my wight. 17 4 . this strumpet. 

18 a . at my. 19 1 . and spake. 

19 2 . Stude weeping by her side. 

19*. wad rin this. 20 wanting. 

21 1 , 22 1 . And when. 21 8 . to grass growing. 

22 1 ' 8 . yate. 22 a . bade na chap nor. 22 8 . to his. 

22*. And er. 23 1 . O are. 28 2 . Or are. 

28 8 . Or has my lady gien to me. 

23*. A dear : or a. 

24 1 . biggins are na broken, lord. 24 a . Nor yet. 

24 8 . a' Scotlande. 24 4 . This day for you. 

25 1 . to me the black horse. 

25 a . O saddle to me. 25 8 Or saddle to me. 

25 4 . ere yet rode. 26 3 . neeze. 

26 8 . your fire, my fierce. 

26 4 . no yet at. 27 1 . And when yate. 

28 1 ' 3 . And still, Mend up the fire, she cried, 

And pour its rage round me. 
28 4 . will mend it soon for. 29*. O had my hands. 
29 3 . Sae fast. 29 4 . To save thy infant son. 
SO 1 * 8 for thee. 80 a . Thy sister and thy brother. 
80 4 . Thy father and thy mother. 81 1 . for thee. 
81 a . a' thy. 8l 8 that I make. 81 4 . I sail. 

115. B. Variations of C. K. Sharpe's own MS 
(" second collection ") : 

2 4 . on my (wrongly). 4 4 . It 's liars. 
8. That 's what I '11. 10 a . brother. 



18*. But when. 20 1 , 21 1 , 22 1 . rode on. 

22 4 . Janet's excit (Motherwett, exite). 24 1 . said. 

27 4 . mony one. 

66. Lord Ingram and Ghiel Wyet. 

P. 128. A. Collated with Sharpe's MS., p. 17. 
The MS., which is in the handwriting of Sharpe, con- 
tains the same ballads as an Abhotsford MS. called 
North Country Ballads, but the two copies are indepen- 
dent transcripts. In a note to Sharpe, without date 
(Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 148), Scott says, 
"I enclose Irvine's manuscripts, which are, I think, 
curious. They are at your service for copying or pub- 
lishing, or whatever you will." Hugh Irvine, Drum, 
communicated to Scott a copy of ' Tarn Lin ' (see IV, 
456), and it is possible that the manuscripts referred to 
in Scott's note were the originals of the " North Coun- 
try Ballads." 

I 4 , their bonneur. 8 2 . to kill. II 1 . boy says. 

II 2 . An will. 14M line that he. 15 1 . (bacon). 

16 4 she wanting. 

18 2 * 4 . garl, marl, are Sharpe's corrections for words 
struck out, which seem to be guell, meal. 

19*. and that. 21 2 . saft. 23 1 . twice, so did I. 

26 1 . did stand. 31*. he wanting. 

Only 14 1 ' 8 , 16 4 , 23 1 , 3 1 4 , ore wrongly given in Mo- 


Scott's MS. The name Maisery w wanting through- 

23 8 . only for one. 28 wanting. 80 8 . had. 

8 1 2 , beg wrongly copied by. 

68. Young Hunting. 

P. 145. A 22. Fmdlay's MSS, I, 146, gives a cor- 
responding stanza, from Miss Bute hart, Arbroath : 

* Ye '11 gie ower your day's doukin 

An douk upon the nicht, 
An the place Young Redin he lies in 

The torches will brin bricht.' 

148. C 21, 22. At the same place in Findlay's MSS 
we find these stanzas, from Miss Bower : 

The firsten grasp that she got o him, 

It was o his yellow hair ; 
O wasna that a dowie grasp, 

For her that did him bear ! 

The nexten grasp that she got o him, 

It was o his lillie hand ; 
O was na that a dowie grasp, 

For her brocht him to land t 

69. Clerk Saunders. 

P. 156 b, 2d paragraph. Austerities. 'Mijn haer sel 
onghevlochten staen,' etc. ' Brennenberg,' Hoffmann, 
Niederlandische Volkslieder, p. 38, No 6, at 17. 

IV, 468 a, 3d line. 
Hittebarn, No 294. 

Add : also four versions of Karl 

71. The Bent sae Brown. 

P. 170. Danish. < Jomfruens Bradre,' Kristensen, 
Skattegraveren, II, 145 ff., Nos 717-23 V, 81 ff., Nos 
682-34; Eftershet til Sk., p. 15, No IS, p. 84, No 79, 
' Den ulige Kamp; ' Folkeminder, XI, 139, No 58, A-C, 
p. 307, No 53. 

73. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet. 

P. 181, III, 510 b, IV, 469 a. Add another version 
of ' Le Rossignolet,' Rev. des Trad, pop., VIII, 418. 

192. O as it stands in " The Old Lady's Collection, 1 ' 
No 24. 

1 Suit Willie an Fair Anne, 

They satt on yon hill, 
An fra the morning till night this tua 
Never ta'ked ther fill. 

2 Willie spak a word in jeast, 

An Anny toke it ill : 
' We 's court ne mare mean madens, 
Agenst our parents' will.' 

3 * It 's na agenst our parents' will,' 

Fair Annie she did say ; 

4 Willie is hame to his hour, 

To his book alean, 
An Fair Anni is to her bour, 
To her book an her seam. 

6 Suit Willie is to his mider dear, 
Fell lou doun on his knee : 

4 A asking, my mider dear, 
An ye grant it me ; 

O will I marry the nut-broun may, 
An latt Faire Anny be? ' 

6 ' The nut-broun may has ousen, Willje, 

The nut-broun may has kay ; 
An ye will wine my blissing, Willie, 
An latt Fair Anny be.' 

7 He did him to his father dear, 

Fell lou doun on his knee : 
' A asken, my father, 
An ye man grant it me.' 

8 ' Ask on, my ae sin Willie, 

Ye 'r sear yer asking is frea ; 
Except it be to marry her Fair Anny, 
An that ye manna deei.' 



9 Out spak his littel sister, 
As she sat by the fire ; 
The oxe-hg will brak in the plough, 
An the cou will droun in the mire. 

10 * An Willie will hae nathing 

Bat the dam to sitt by the fire, 
An Faire Annie will sit in her beagly bour, 
An wine a eearPs hire.* 

11 Fair faa ye, my littel sister, 

A gued dead matt ye dee ! 
An ever I hae goud, 
Well touchered sail ye be.' 

12 Hi'se away to Fair Annie, 

As fast as gang coud he : 
' O will ye come to my marrag? 
The morn it 's to be.' 

I O I will come to yer marrag the morn, 

Gin I can wine,' said she. 

13 Annie did her to her father d[ea]r, 

Fell lou doun on her knee : 
* An a s kin, my father, 

An ye mane grant it me ; 
Latt me to Suit Willie's marrage, 

The morn it is to be/ 

14 ' Your hors sail be siler-shod afor, 

An guid read goud ahind, 
An bells in his main, 

To ring agenst the wind/ 

15 She did her to her mother dear, 

Fell lou on her knee : 
' Will ye latt me to Willie's marrage V 
To-morraa it is to be.' 

I 1 ill latt ye to Willie's marrage, 
To-morray it is to be/ 

16 Fan Anne was in her sadel sett, 

She flamd agenst the fire ; 
The girdell about her sma mid dell 
Wad a wone a eearPs hire. 

17 Fan they came to Mary kirk, 

An on to Mary quir, 

* O far gat ye that water, Anne, 

That washes ye sae clean ? ' 

* I gat it in my fa(t)hers garden, 

Aneth a mar be 11 stane.' 

18 O fare gatt ye that water, Anne, 

That washes ye sae fett? ' 

4 1 gat it in my raider's womb, 

Far ye never gat the leak. 

19 ' For ye ha ben cirsned we mose-water, 

An roked in the reak, 

An sin-brunt in yer midder's womb, 
For I think ye '11 never be faitt.' 

20 The broun bride pat her hand in 
Att Anne's left gare, 

An gen her 

A deap wound an a sare. 

21 O Anne gid on her hors back. 

An fast away did ride, 
Batt lang or kok's crawang 
Fair Anne was dead. 

22 Fan bells was rung, an messe was sung, 

An a* man boun to bed, 
Suit Willie an the nut-broun bride 
In a chamber was lead. 

28 But up an wakned him Suit Willie, 

Out of his dreary dream * 
1 1 dreamed a dream this night, 
God read a* dreams to gued 1 

24 That Fair Anne's bour was full of gentelmen, 

An her nen sellf was dead ; 
Bat I will on to Fair Annie, 
An see if it be gued/ 

25 Seven lang mille or he came near, 

He hard a dulfull chear, 
Her father an her seven bretheren 

Making to her a bear, 
The half of it guid read goud, 

The eather silver clear. 

26 Ye berl att my love's leak 

The whit bread an the wine, 
Bat or the morn att this time 
Ye 's de the leak att mine/ 

27 The tean was beared att Mary kirk, 

The eather att Mary quir ; 
Out of the an grue a birk, 
Out of the eather a brear. 

28 An ay the langer att they grue 

They came the eather near, 
An by that ye might a well kent 
They war tua lovers dear. 

4 9 . There may have been a word between book and 


5 e . bay : cf. 6*. 16 2 . flamd is doubtful. 21*. farie. 
23*. might. 

74. Fair Margaret and Sweet William. 

P. 199, The Roxburghe copy, m, 338, Ebsworth, 
VI, 640, is a late one, of Aldermary Church- Yard. 



200 b. A o is translated by Prohle, 6. A. Burger, 
Sein Leben u. seine Dichtungen, p. 109. 

76. Lord Lovel. 

P. 204 f., note f, 512 b, IV 471 a. Add Der Graf 
und das Madchen,' Bockel, Deutsche V.-l. aus Ober- 
hessen, p. 5, No 6 ; * Es schlief cin Graf bei seiner 
Magd,' Lewalter, Deutsche V.-l. in Niederhessen ge- 
sammelt, 2' Heft, p. 3, No 2 : * Der Graf und sein Lieb- 
chen,' Frischbier u. Sembrzycki, Hundert Ostpreus- 
sische Volkslieder, p v 34, No 21. 

205 a, note, III, 510 b, IV, 471 b. Scandinavian, 
Other copies of 'Lille Lise,' Greven og lille Lise,' 
Kristensen, EftersliEt til Skattegraveren, p. 18, No 15, 
Folkeminder, XI, 159, No 62, A-D. 

205. ' Den elskedes D0d/ Berggreen, Danske Folke- 
sange, 3d ed., p. 162, No 80 b ; Svenske Fs., 2d ed., 
p. 84, No 66 b. 

The ballad exists in Esthonian Kaarle Krohn, Die 
geographische Verbreitung estnischer Laeder, p. 23. 

76. The Lass of Boch Royal. 

P. 213. B was received by Herd, with several other 
ballads, "by post, from a lady in Ayrshire (?), name 
unknown " Herd's MSS, I, 143. 

215 b, 2d paragraph, tokens. Add : Zoypafsiof 'Aywv, 
p. 90, No 67, p. 91, No 69, p 95, No 81 

The lady demands love-tokens of Clerk Saunders' 
ghost, No 69, O, 33, II, 166. 

219. C occurs in C. K. Sharpens small MS. volume 
" Songs," p. 40, and must have been communicated to 
Sharpe by Pitcairn. Collation : 

2 It 's open, etc. . not written in full. 

3, 4 8 . Ruchley hill 5 8 . give me. 

6. Do not you mind, etc. . not written in fall. 

7 wanting. 8 1 . turned round. 

10 1 It'sawa 10 8 . have got the. IS 1 , that he. 

14 1 . Let down, let down. 14 8 . late wanting. 

15 8 . morrow. 15*. of mine. 16, 17, wanting. 

77. Sweet William's Ghost. 

P. 228, note f- Add . Zingerle, in Zeitschrift fur 
Volkskunde, II, 147. 

229. C is translated by Prohle, G. A. Burger, Sein 
Leben u. seine Dichtungen, p. 106. 

78. The Unquiet Grave. 


P. 236 b, last paragraph. See the preface to 
Suffolk Miracle * in this volume, p 58 ff. 

This "fragment," in a small MS. volume entirely in 
C. K. Sharpens handwriting ( Songs "), p. 21, "from 
the recitation of Miss Oliphant of Gask, now Mrs 
Nairn " (later Lady Nairne), evidently belongs here. 

VOL. v. 29 

O wet and weary is the night, 
And evendown pours the rain, O, 

And he that was sae true to me 
Lies in the greenwood slain, O. P. 21. 

80. Old Robin of Portingale. 

P. 240 < Sleep you, wake you/ So, * Soldatenlohn,' 
Zeitschrift fur Volkskunde, II, 426, sts. 6,7; Hruschka 
u. Toischer, Deutsche Volkslieder aus Bohmen, p. 183, 
No 147 a, 4 6 , b 3 6 , p 195, No 171, 2 1 , No 172, 4. 

240, 513 a, III, 514, IV, 476. Two religious persons 
from India display to the Pope a cross burned on the 
breast in token of Christian faith, and also a baptismal 
mark on the right ear, " non flumine sed flamine : " 
Chronicon Adae de Usk ad ann. 1404, ed. E. M. 
Thompson, p. 90. See also the reference to York's 
Marco Polo, 1875, II, 421, in Mr Thompson's note, 
p. 219. (G. L. K.) 

81. Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard. 

P. 242. Little Musgrave * is entered to Francis 
Coules in the Stationers' Registers, 24 June, 1630: 
Arber, IV, 236. 

P. 279. 

86. Lady Alice. 

Miss M. H. Mason's Nursery Rhymes and Country Songs, 
p. 46, ' Giles Collm.' 

1 Giles Collin he said to his mother one day, 

Oh, mother, come bind up my head ! 
For tomorrow morning before it is day 
I 'm sure I shall be dead. 

2 ' Oh, mother, oh, mother, if I should die, 

And I am sure I shall, 
I will not be buried in our churchyard, 
But under Lady Alice's wall. 1 

3 His mother she made him some water-gruel, 

And stirred it up with a spoon ; 
Giles Collin he ate but one spoonful, 
And died before it was noon. 

4 Lady Alice was sitting in her window, 

Ail dressed in her night-coif ; 
She saw as pretty a corpse go by 
As ever she 'd seen in her life. 

5 ( What bear ye there, ye six tall men ? 

What bear ye on your shourn ? ' 



' We bear the body of Giles Collin, 
Who was a true lover of yourn.' 

6 'Down with him, down with him, upon the 


The grass that grows so green ; 
For tomorrow morning before it is day 
My body shall lie by him.' 

7 Her mother she made her some plum-gruel, 

With spices all of the best ; 
Lady Alice she ate but one spoonful, 
And the doctor he ate up the rest 

8 Giles Collin was laid in the lower chancel, 

Lady Alice all in the higher ; 
There grew up a rose from Lady Alice's breast, 
And from Giles Collin's a briar. 

9 And they grew, and they grew, to the very 


Until they could grow no higher, 
And twisted and twined in a true-lover's knot, 
Which made all the parish admire. 

90. Jellon Qrame. 

P. 308 b, 513 ft, III, 515 b, IV, 479 b. Precocious 

The French romance of Alexander. Albdric de 
Besan9on : Alexander had more strength when three 
days old than other children of four months; he walked 
and ran better from his first year than any other child 
from its seventh. (The same, nearly, in Lamprecht, vv. 
142-4 : he throve better in three days than any other 
child of three months; 178-80, in his first year his 
strength and body waxed more than another's in three.) 
MS. de F Arsenal : the child grew in vitality and know- 
ledge more in seven years than others do in a hundred. 
MS. de Venise : he grew more in body and knowledge 
in eight years than others in a hundred. P. Meyer, 
Alexandre le Grand, I t 5, v. 56 f., 6, v, 74 f., 27, v. 39 
f., 240, v. 53 f. ' Plus sot en x jors que i. autres en c : ' 
Michelant, p. 8, v. 20. A similar precocity is recorded 
of the Chinese Emperor Schimong: Giitzlaff, Geschichte 
der Chinesen, hrsgg. v. Neumann, 8. 19, cited by Weis- 
mann, Lamprecht's Alexander, I, 482. 

In the romance of Me*lusine it is related how, after 
her disappearance in serpent-form, she was seen by the 
nurses to return at night and care for her two infant 
sons, who, according to the earliest version, the prose 
of Jehan 6? Arras, grew more in a week than other chil- 
dren in a month: ed. Brunet,1854, p. 361. The same 
in the French romance, L 4847 f., the English metrical 
version, 1. 4035-37, and in the German Volksbuch. 
(U. L. Koopman.) 

Tom Hickathrift " was in length, when he was but 
ten years of age, about eight foot, and in thickness five 
foot, and his hand was like unto a shoulder of mutton, 
and in all parts from top to toe he was like a monster." 
The History of Thomas Hickathrift, ed. by G. L. 
Gomme, Villon Society, 1885, p. 2. (G. L. E.) 

305. B. The following, a variety of B, is from the 
papers of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, " second collec- 
tion," p. 6. 

1 Word has come to May Young Ro, 

In her bower where she sat, 
4 You 'r bidden come to good green wood 
And sew your love a shirt. 1 

2 ' I wonder much/ said May Young Roe, 

' Such word is come to me ; 
Ther 's not a month throwout this year 
But I have sewed him three/ 

3 Then out it spake her mother, 

And a wise word spoke she ; 
Said, Stay at home, my daughter, 
They want to murder thee. 

4 I will cast off my gloves, mother, 

And hing them on a pin ; 
If I come never back again, 
You '1 mind on your daugh[t]er young. 

5 ' Come here, my boy,' she cried, 

' And bring my horse to me, 
That I may ride to good green wood, 
The flowers in it to see.' 

6 When she was got to good green wood, 

No further did she ride 
Till up did start him Hind Henry, 
Just at the ladle's side. 

7 < O stop, O stop there, May,' he cried, 

4 O stop, I say to thee ; 
The boy who holds your bridle-reins 
Shall see your body wea.' 

8 Then out he drew a large long brand, 

And struck it ower a str[ow], 
And throw and throw that ladle's side 
He made the cold steel go. 

9 Said, Take you that now, May Young Roe, 

Just take you that from me, 
Because you loved Brown Robin, 
And never would love me. 

10 The boy was in a dreadful fright, 
And in great haste rode home, 
Lamenting sadly all the way, 
And made a piteous moan. 



11 And when her mother heard his tale 

She took the bed of care ; 
Her sister ran to good green wood, 
A tearing of her hair. 

12 There was small pity for that lady, 

Where she was lying dead, 
Compared with for the pretty babe, 
Weltring among the blood. 

13 ' I will take up this babe/ she said, 

' And lull him on my sleeve ; 
Altho his father should wish me woe, 
His mother was to me live/ 

14 Now she has taken the boy up, 

And she has brought him hame, 
And she has called him Brown Robin, 
It was his father's name. 

15 And she has nursed him carefuly, 

And put him to the school, 
And any who affronted him 
He soon did make cry dule. 

16 And it fell ance upon a time 

It was a haly day, 
And all the boys at that school 
On it they got the play. 

17 He hied him unto good green wood, 

And leap from tree to tree, 
And there did pull some hollin wands, 
To play his own self we. 

18 And aft he looked on a spot, 

And at it marvelled sair, 
That all the wood was clad with leaves, 
And that one spot was bare. 

19 And he said unto Hind Henry, 

1 1 wonder very sair 
That all the wood is clad with leaves, 
And this one spot is bare/ 

SO ' You need not wonder, boy,* he said, 

4 You need not wonder none, 
For it is just the very spot 
I killed your mother on/ 

21 The boy 's pulled out his daggar then, 

And struck it ower a a trow, 
And even to Hind Henry's heart 
He made the cold steel go. 

22 Says, Take you that, you vile Henry, 

Just take you that from me, 

For killing of my mother dear, 

And she not harming thee. 

91. Fair Mary of Wellington. 

P. 814, IV, 480 a. D. 10* in Kinloch MSS, V, 363, 
reads, I hear this babe now from her side ; but in Mr 
Macmath's transcript of Burton's MS., No 2, I bear 
... my side. 

316. * The Lady of Livenston,' from " The Old 
Lady's Collection," No 82. 


1 ' We was sisters, we was seven, 

Five of us dayed we child, 
An you an me, Burd Ellen, 
Sail live maidens mild/ 

2 Ther came leards, an ther came lords, 

An knights of high degree, 
A' courting Lady Messry, 
Bat it widne deei. 

3 Bat the bonny lord of Livenston, 

He was flour of them a', 

The bonny lord of Livenston, 

He stole the lady awaa. 

4 Broad was the horses hoves 

That dumped the water of Glide, 
An a' was for honor of that gay lady 
That day she was Livenston's bride. 

5 Fan she came to Livenston 

Mukell mirth was ther ; 
The knights knaked ther whit fingers 
The ladys curled ther hear. 

6 She had no ben in Livenston 

A tuall-month an a day, 
Till she was as big we beam 
As a lady coud gaa. 

7 She had ne ben in Livenston 

A tuall-month an a hour, 
Till for the morning of the may 
The couldne ane come near her bour. 

8 * Far will I gett a bonny boy 

That will rean my earend shoun, 
That will goo to leve London, 
To my mother, the quin ? ' 

9 ' Hear 'am I, a bonny boy 

Will rin yer earend sune, 



That will rin on to fair London, 
To yer mother, the quin.' 

10 ' Hear is the bruch f ra my breast-bane, 

The garlands f ra my hear ; 
Ye ge that to my mider, 

Fra me she '11 never gett mare. 

11 ' Hear is the rosses fra my shoun, 

The ribbons fra my hear ; 
Ye gee that to my mider, 

Fra me she '11 never gett mare. 

12 ' Hear is my briddel-stand, 

It is a' goud to the beam ; 
Ye gie that to Burd Ellen, 
Forbed her to marry men. 

13 * Ye bid them and ye pray them bath, 

If they will dou it for my sake, 
If they be not att my death, 
To be att my leak-wake. 

14 ' Ye bid them and ye pray them baith, 

If they will dou it for my name, 
If they be not att my leak-wake, 
To be att my birrien.' 

15 Fan he came to grass grouen, 

He strated his bou an rane, 

An fan he came to brigs broken 

He slaked his bou an swam. 

16 An fan he came to yon castell, 

He bad nether to chap nor caa, 
But sait his bent bou to his breast 

An lightly lap the waa ; 
Or the porter was att the gate, 

The boy was in the haa. 

17 * Mukell meatt is on yer table, lady, 

An littil of it is eaten, 
Bat the bonny lady of Livenston 
Ye have her clean forgotten.' 

18 * Ye lie, ye lie, ye bonny boy, 

Sae loud as I hear ye lie ; 
Mukell ha I sold the [meatt], 

An littel hae I bought, 
Batt the bonny lady of Livenston 

Gaas never out of my thought. 

19 ' Mukell have I bought, bonny boy, 

An littel haa I sale, 

Bat the bonny lady of Livenston 
She couls my heart fue cale.' 

20 ( Hear is the ribbings fra her hear, 

The roses fra her shoun ; 
I was bidden gie that to her midder, 
To her midder, the quin* 

21 ' Hear is the bruch fra her breast-bean, 

The garlands frae her hear ; 
I was bidden gee that to her mother, 
Fra her she '11 never gett mare. 

22 * Hear is her bridell-stand, 

The' r a' goud to the beam ; 
I was bidden ga that to Burd Ellen, 
Forbid her to marry man. 

23 4 She bids ye an she prays ye bath, 

Gin yee 11 di et for her sake, 
If ye be not att her death, 
To be att her leak-wake. 

24 ' She bidds yee an she prays ye bath, 

Gine ye '11 dou et for her name, 
If ye be not att her leak-wake, 
To be at her burrien.' 

25 < Garr saddell to me the blak, 

Saddle to me the broun, 
Gar saddel to me the suiftest stead 

That ever read fraa a toun, 
Till I gaa to Livenston 

An see hou Measry fairs.' 

26 The first stead was saddled to her, 

It was the bonny black ; 
She spured him aftt and she spared him na, 
An she tayened him at a slap. 

27 The neast stead that was saddled to her 

Was the berrey-broun ; 
She spured him aftt an she spared him not, 
An she tayned him att a toun. 

28 The neast an steed that was saddled to her, 

It was the milk-white : 
' Fair f aa the mear that foiled the foil 
Had me to Meassry's leak ! ' 

29 Fan she came to Livenston, 

Mukel dolle was ther ; 
The knights wrang ther whit fingers, 
The ladys tore ther hear. 



30 The knights they wrang ther whit fingers, 

The rings they flue in four : 
* Latt haas an tours an a' doun f au ! 
My dear thing has gine it our.' 

31 Out spak him Livens ton, 

An a sorry man was he ; 
4 1 had rader lost the lands of Livenston, 
Afor my gay lady/ 

32 ( Had yer toung nou, Livenston, 

An latt yer folly be ; 
I hare the buid in my bosom, 
I man thole to see her diee.' 

33 Fan she came to her doughter's boure, 

Ther was littel pride ; 
The scoups was in her doughter's mouth, 
An the sharp shirrs in her side. 

34 Out spake her Burd Ellen, 

An she spake ay threu pride ; 
The wife sail never bear the sin 
Sail lay doun by my side. 

35 ' Had your toung nou, Burd Ellen, 

Te latt yer folly a be ; 
Dinne" ye mind that ye promised yer love 
To him that is ayond the seaa ? ' 

36 ' Hold yer toung, my mother, 

Ye speak just leak a fooll ; 
Tho I wer marred att Martimee, 
I wad be dead or Yeull.' 

37 ' I have five bonny oyes att beam, 

Ther was never ane of them born, 
Bat every ane of them 
Out of ther midder's sides shorn.' 

5 s . The knights knaked ther whit fingers is 
certainly an anticipation. This is always 
done for anguish : see 29 M , 30 1 ' 8 . 

7 M . Till ther couldne ane come near her bour 
For the morning of they may. Per- 
haps moaning. 

16 8 . he had. 

18 8 . Perhaps the meat 

19H sale, cale (for sold, cold). 

22*. hean. 22 1 . bidden ga. 

35 s . Didde. 

92. Bonny Bee Horn. 

P. 317. < The Lowlands of Holland.' In 'The Sor- 
rowful Lover's Regrate, or, The Low-Lands of Hol- 
land,' British Mnsemn 1846. m. 7(40), dated May the 
5th, 1776, a threnody in eleven double stanzas. 1, 2 
of the copy in Johnson's Museum are 1, 2 ; Johnson, 
8=7, 4=4, 5=6, 6 = 8, and the stanza added by 
Stenhonse is 9 (with verbal divergences). < The Maid's 
Lamentation for the loss of her true love,' Museum 
11621. c. 8(89), " Newcastle, 1768 ?," the fifth piece 
in The Complaining Lover's Garland, has five stanzas : 
1 corresponding to 2 of Johnson, 2 to 5, 5 to 6, 8 to 5 
of the Regrate, and 4 to 9, with considerable differ- 
ences. ' The Seaman's Sorrowful Bride,' Roxburghe, 
IV, 78, Ebe worth, VI, 444, begins with two stanzas 
which resemble Johnson, 2, 1. This last was printed 
for J. Deacon, in Guilt-spur-street, and the date, ac- 
cording to Chappell, would be 1684-95. 

93. Laznkin. 

P. 381, 1, as it stands in " The Old Lady's Collec- 
tion," No 15. 

1 Lamken was as gued a masson 

as ever did hue ston ; 
He bigged Lord Weary's house, 
an pament never got non. 

2 It fell ance on a day 

Lord Weary went from home, 
An Lamkin came to the fause nirice, 


4 O still my bairn, nirice, 
still him we the kniff :' 

' He winne still, lady, 
tho I sud lay doun my life.' 

4 ' still my bairn, nirice, 

still him we the bell : ' 
1 He winne still, lady, 
till ye come doun yersell.' 

5 The first step she came on, 

it was the stane ; 
The nest step 
she mett him Lamkin. 

6 ' O spare my life, Larakin, 

an I ell gee ye a peak of goud well laid on ; 
An that dinne pleas ye, 
I ell heap it we my hand.' 



7 O will I kill the lady, nirice, 

or will I lat her gang ? ' 
* O kill her, Lanken, 

she was never gued to me.' 

8 ' O wanted ye yer meatt, nirice V 

or wanted ye yer fiee ? 
Or wanted ye the other bountya 
lady's are wont to gee ? ' 

< Kill her, Lanken, 
she was never gued to me.' 

10 'Ye wash a bason, nirice, 

an ye wash it clean, 
To cape this lady's blode ; 
she is come of high kine.' 

11*1 winne wash a bason, 

nor wash it clean, 
To cap this lady's blod, 

tho she he come of high kine.' 

12 Bonny sang yon burd 

as he satt on the tree, 
Bat sare grat Lamkin 
fan he was hanged hie. 

18 Bonny sang the burd 

that satt on the hill, 
Bat sare grat the nirice 
fan the caldron began to boilL 

14 Lankin was hanged, 


An the faus nirice 
was burnt in the cadron was she. 

339 ff., 513, IV, 480. 

'Lammikin/ Findlay's M8S, 1, 173, "from J. Milne, who 
wrote it down from recitation by John Duncan." 

1 Lie in your room, my wife, 

2 ' You '11 fasten doors and windows, 

yon '11 fasten them out an in, 
For if you leave ae window open 
Lammikin will come in.' 

3 They 've fastened doors an windows, 

they Ve fastened them out an in, 
But they have left ae window open, 



in cam in. 

4 ' O where are a' the women 

that dwell here within ? ' 
' They 're at the well washin, 
and they will not come in.' 

5 ' O where are a' the men 

that dwell here within ? ' 
They 're at the . . . . , 
and they will not come in/ 

6 ' O where is the lady 

that dwells here within ? ' 

* She 's up the stair dressin, 

an she will not come doun.' 

7 It 's what will we do 

to mak her come doun ? 
We '11 rock the cradle, nourrice, 
an mak her come doun.' 

8 They [hae] rocked the cradle 

to mak her come doun, 

the red bluid out sprung. 

9 * O still the bairn, nourrice, 

O still him wi the bell : ' 

* He winna still, my lady, 

till ye come doun yerseL* 

10 The first step she steppit, 

it was upon a stane ; 
The next step she steppit, 


11 * O mercy, mercy, Lammikin, 

hae mercy upo me ! 
Tho ye hae killed my young son, 
ye may lat mysel abee.' 

12 * O it 's will I kiU her, nourrice, 

or will I lat her be ? ' 
' O kill her, kiU her, Lammikin, 
she neer was gude to me.' 

13 4 O it 's wanted ye your meat ? 

or wanted ye your fee ? ' 



14 ' I wanted not my meat, 
I wanted not my fee, 
Bat I wanted some bounties 
that ladies can gie.' 

95. The Maid freed from the Gallows. 

P. 846, III, 516 a, IV, 481 b. Italian. Maria Canni, 
Canti pop. Emiliani, Archivio, XII, 189. Brunetina, 
after she has been rescued by her lover, is informed, 
while she is dancing at a ball, that her mother is dead. 
Bury her, she replies, I will dress in complete red, and 
she goes on dancing. So of her father. But when 
told that her lover is dead, she says she will dress in 
complete black, and bids the music stop, for she wishes 
to dance no more. 'La Ballerina,' Nigra, No 107, 
p. 469, is no doubt the last half of this ballad corrupted 
at the conclusion. The woman will not stop dancing 
for the reported death of father, mother, brother, sister, 
husband, but when told that her boy is dead asks the 
players to cease, her legs are broken, she can dance no 

In ' Leggenda Marinesca' (di Catanzaro), La Cala- 
bria, October, 1893, VI, 16, a wife (or perhaps an affi- 
anced young woman) is ransomed from pirates by her 
husband (or betrothed), after father, mother, and bro- 
ther have refused. If her father, mother, brother, 
should die, she would deck her hair, dress in red, yel- 
low, or white, bid the guitar strike up, and dance ; but 
if her true-love died, she would put on black, cut her 
hair, and tbrow the guitar into the sea. 

349. Mr Kaarle Krohn, of the University of Hel- 
singfors, has favored me with the following study of the 
very numerous Finnish and Esthonian versions of this 
ballad, incorporating therein the researches of his father, 
Julius Krohn, already referred to at IV, 482 a. (Est- 
lander's discussion, which I had not seen, " Sangen om 
den frikopta," occupies pp. 331-356 of the tenth vol- 
ume of Fmsk Tidskrift.) 

I. The West Finnish versions, dispersed over West 
and East Finland and Ingria. These are in the modern 
metre, which came into use hardly before the end of 
the seventeenth century, and it is in the highest degree 
probable that they were learned from the Swedes. About 
thirty copies known Specimen, Reinholm's collection, 
H 12, No 76, from the Nystad district northward from 
Abo, in Southwest Finland ; J. K., p. 11*. 

Prevailing traits 1. The maid is sitting in a little 
room, less frequently in a ship's cabin or a boat. 2. The 
father has three horses. 3. The mother has three cows. 
4. The brother has three swords. 5. The sister has 
three crowns, or, in copies from further east, where 
crowns are not used for head-gear, three silk kerchiefs. 
6. The lover has three ships, or almost as often three 
castles (mansions). There are variations, but rarely, 

* This reference is to the article by Julius Krohn men- 
tioned at IV, 482 a. 

as to the objects possessed, and sometimes exchanges, 
but only two cases are of importance. In one copy from 
the extreme of Southeast Finland, the father has three 
oxen, which seems to be the original disposition, the 
change to horses coming about from the circumstance 
that oxen are seldom employed for ploughing in Fin- 
land. In four copies from the most eastern part of 
Finland the sister has three sheep, perhaps owing to 
the influence of the East Finnish versions. 7. The 
imprecations and benedictions at the end occur regu- 
larly. May the horses be knocked up or die at plough- 
ing-time ; may the cows die, dry up, etc., at milking- 
time ; the swords shiver in war-time ; the crowns fall off 
or melt at wedding or dance (the silk kerchiefs tear, 
fade, spoil with wet) ; and on the other hand, may the 
ships sail well, do well, make money at trading-time; 
the castles rise, flourish in time of destitution, of bad 
crops. Etc. 

II. The later Esthonian versions, Esthonia and Livo- 
nia, in modern metre, of more recent origin, probably, 
than in Finland. About twenty copies known. Speci- 
men, J. Hurt, Vana Kannel, II, 365, No 367. Lilla is 
sitting in the little room in weary expectation. She 
sees her father walking on the sea-beach. * Dear fa- 
ther, beloved father, ransom me ! ' * Wherewith ran- 
som you, when I have no money '? ' ' You have three 
horses at home, and can pawn one. 1 * I can do better 
without my Lilla than without my three horses ; the 
horses are mine for all my life, Lilla for a short time. 1 
In like fashion, the mother is not willing to sacrifice 
one of her three cows, the brother one of his three 
swords, the sister one of her three rings. But the lover, 
who has three ships, says, I can better give up a ship 
than give up my dear Lilla ; my ships are mine for a 
short time, but Lilla for all my life. Lilla breaks out 
in execrations : may her father's horses fall dead when 
they are ploughing in summer, may her mother's cows 
dry up in milking, her brother's swords shiver in war, 
her sister's rings break in the very act of marrying ; 
but may her true-love's ships long bring home precious 

Prevailing traits : 1. Lilla; in some copies from East 
Livonia, Roosi. 2. Little room ; quite as often prison- 
tower. 3. The father has horses, the mother cows, the 
brother swords, as in the West Finnish versions. The 
independency of the Esthonian ballad is exhibited in 
the sister's three rings. It roust, as far as I can at 
present see, have been borrowed directly from the 
Swedish, not through the medium of the Finnish. The 
lover has always three ships, and it is often wished 
that these ships may sail well in storm and in winter. 
The maledictions occur regularly, as in the example 
cited. There are some divergences as to the items of 
property, mostly occasioned by the older Esthonian 
version : thus, the father has sometimes oxen or corn- 
lofts, the brother horses, the sister brooches. 

ID. The older Esthonian versions, disseminated in 
Esthonia and Livonia, and also among the orthodox 
Esthonians beyond Pskov. These are in the old eight- 



syllable measure of the runes (and of Kalevala). More 
than a hundred copies have been obtained. 

a. Best preserved and of most frequent occurrence 
in the island of Osel. Twenty copies. Specimen from 
J. Hurt's manuscript collections. Anne goes into the 
cow-house and soils her cap. She proceeds to the sea- 
beach to wash her cap. Ships come from Russia, from 
Courland. Anne is made captive. She weeps, and 
begs that the ship may be stopped ; she wishes to take 
a look homewards. Her father has three oxen, one of 
which has silver horns, another copper, the third golden, 
but he will give none of them for her. Her mother 
has three cows, with silver, copper, golden udders ; 
her brother, three horses, with the same variety of 
manes ; her sister, three sheep, with wool of the three 
sorts ; a neighbor's son, three lofts full of wheat, rye, 
barley. She wishes that the oxen may die in plough- 
ing-time, the cows in milk-time, the horses at wooing- 
time, the sheep at wool-time; but may the corn-lofts 
of the neighbor's son grow fuller in the direst famine- 

Prevailing traits : 1. The maid's name is Anne. 2. 
The pirates are Russians (10 times), Poles (6), Cour- 
landers (2), Swedes (1), Germans (1), English (1). 
8. The father has commonly oxen ; the mother, cows 
always ; the brother, almost always horses ; the sister, 
sheep, six times, of tener than anything else ; the lover, 
ordinarily corn-lofts. 4. The cursing occurs ten times. 
There are in a few cases exchanges of the sorts of 
property (thus, the father has corn-lofts, the sister has 
brooches, each four times), and in two instances the 
lover is omitted. The ballad has perhaps been affected 
by another (see II, 347 f.) in which a girl receives in- 
formation that she has been sold by her relations . by 
her father for a pair of oxen (25 cases) or for a horse 
(18), by her mother for a cow, by her brother for a 
horse (24) or for a pair of oxen (14), by her sister for 
a brooch ; and she curses all that they have got by the 

b. Less perfect and not so well preserved on the Es- 
thonian mainland. About 100 copies, more or fewer. 
Specimens, Neus, p. 109, No 34, Hurt, Vana Kannel, I, 
166, No 103, II, 310, No 442. 

Prevailing traits : 1. The name of the maid, Anne, 
and the introduction linked to it, are often dropped, 
especially in the southeast of the Esthonian district, 
and a passage about a young conscript who wishes to 
be bought off from serving is substituted. The maid, 
whose brothers have hidden away, is pressed instead 
of them, and sent into service. As she is driven by the 
house of her parents in the military wagon she entreats 
her guards not to make sail ! 2. The kidnapper is most 
frequently a Russian, then Pole, Swede, less commonly 
German, Courlander. In the northeast of the Estho- 
nian district, on the border of Ingria, Karelian, four 
times. 3. The father often keeps the oxen, but almost 
as often has horses ; the brother, in these last cases, has 
seldom oxen, generally horses as well as the father. 
The alteration is in part owing to the same material 

occasion as in the West Finnish versions ; sometimes an 
influence from the ballad of the maiden who has been 
sold by her relatives may be suspected (in which ballad 
it is not easy to say whether the oxen belong originally 
to father or brother). Frequently the father has corn- 
lofts, the lover, to whom these would belong, having 
dropped out. The mother has almost always cows; 
in the northeast, on the Ingrian border, three times, 
aprons. The brother has generally horses, five times 
oxen, with other individual variations. The sister 
has preserved the sheep only four times ; eight times 
she has brooches, and in one of these cases the ballad 
of the maid sold by her relatives is blended with ours, 
while in the remainder the influence of that ballad is 
observable. In six cases she has rings, perhaps under 
the influence of the later Esthonian versions. In the 
southeast she has chests seven times, and in roost of 
these cases the lover has the rings. Other variations 
occur from one to four times. The lover has his corn- 
lofts nine times. Eight times he has horses, and in 
half of these instances he has exchanged with the 
brother, or both have horses. Twice he has ships, 
through the influence of the later Esthonian versions ; 
or rings, in which cases the father ordinarily has the 
corn-lofts. 4. The imprecation in the conclusion is but 
rarely preserved. 

IV. The East Finnish versions. Diffused in Ingria, 
East Finland, and Russian Karelia. In the old rune- 
measure, about forty copies. Specimen, Ahlqvist's 
collection, from East Finland, No 351 : see J. K., 
p. 11. 

Prevailing traits: 1. The maid is in a boat on the 
Neva. 2. The kidnapper is a Russian. 3. The father 
has a horse, the mother a cow, the brother a horse, the 
sister a sheep (each with an epithet). 4. The impreca- 
tion is almost without exception preserved. This ver- 
sion arose from a blending of the West Finnish, I, the 
older Esthonian, III, and the ballad of the maid sold by 
her relatives. This latter occurs in West Ingria in the 
following shape : The maid gets tidings that she has 
been sold. The father has received for her a gold-horse 
(may it founder when on the way to earn gold 1 ), the 
mother a portly cow (may it spill its milk on the 
ground!), the brother a war-horse (may the horse 
founder on the war-path ! ), the sister a bluish sheep 
(may wolf and bear rend it I). In some copies the 
father or the brother has oxen (may they fall dead in 
ploughing!), as in the Esthonian ballad, from which 
the Ingrian is borrowed. The sister's sheep instead 
of brooch shows perhaps the influence of the older 
Esthonian ballad of the maid begging to be ransomed, 
or it may be an innovation. 

The ballad of the maid sold by her family occurs in 
West Ingria independently, and also as an introduction 
to the other, and has been the occasion for the changes 
in the possessions of the relatives. North of St Peters- 
burg die combination is not found, though it has left 
its traces in the course of the spreading of the ballad 
from Narva to St Petersburg. 



The maid's sitting in a boat may come as well from 
the older Esthonian as from the West Finnish version, 
although it is more common in the latter for her to he 
sitting in the " little room/' The Russian as the kid- 
napper is a constant feature in the older Esthonian 
version, but occurs also three times in the West Finnish 
(once it is the red-headed Dane, in the copy in which 
the oxen are preserved). Besides Russian, the kid- 
napper is once called Karelian in West Ingna, often 
in East Finland, and this denomination also occurs in 
Northeast Esthonia. The influence of the older Es- 
thonian versions is shown again in some copies preserved 
in West Ingria which are not mixed up with the ballad 
of the maid that has been sold ; the mother having three 
aprons in two instances, as in some Northeast Estho- 
nian copies. 

The river Neva as a local designation is preserved in 
East Finland, and shows that the version in which it 
occurs migrated from Ingria northwards. In the course 
of its migration (which ends in Russian Karelia) this 
version has become mixed with the West Finnish in 
multiform ways. The prelude of the East Finnish has 
attached itself to the West Finnish, notwithstanding 
the different metre. The trilogy of the latter has made 
its way into the former, and has spoiled the measure. 
It is no doubt owing to the influence of the Western 
version that, in North Ingria and Karelia, the brother, 
more frequently the lover, has a war-sword, the lover 
once a sea-ship, or the brother a red boat or war-boat. 

Finally it may be noted that in those West Ingrian 
copies in which the ballads of the maid sold and the 
maid ransomed are blended the ransomer is a son-in- 
law, and possesses "a willow castle " (wooden strong- 
house ?), the relation of which to the castle in the West 
Finnish version is not clear 

If we denote the West Finnish versions by a, the 
older Esthonian by b, the ballad of the maid sold by 
her family by c, the status of the East-Finnish versions 
may be exhibited thus : 

In West Ingria, b -f c + a. 

In North Ingria, b + c + a + 

In Karelia, b + c-fa-fa + a. 

That is to say, there has been a constantly increasing 
influence exerted by the West Finnish versions upon the 
East Finnish Ingrian versions, and reciprocally. This 
circumstance has caused it to be maintained that ihe 
East Finnish versions were derived from the West 
Finnish, in spite of the difference of the metre. 

353 a. P was communicated by Rev. W. Findlay : 
Fmdlay MSS, I, 100. 

353. H. o. Mrs Bacheller, of Jacobstown, North 
Cornwall (sister of Mrs Gibbons, from whom 78 H was 
derived, see IV, 474 b), gave Rev. S. Baring-Gould the 
following version of the tale, taught her by a Cornish 
nursery maid, probably the same mentioned at the place 
last cited. 

" A king had three daughters. He gave each a 

golden ball to play with, which they were never to lose. 
The youngest lost hers, and was to be hung on the 
gallows-tree if it were not found by a day named. Gal- 
lows ready, all waiting to see the girl hung. She sees 
her father coming, and cries : 

' Father, father, have you found my golden ball. 
And will you set me free ? ' 

' I 've not found your golden ball, 

And I can't set you free ; 
But I am come to see you hanged 

Upon the gallows-tree.' 

The same repeated with every relationship, brother, 
sister, etc. ; then comes the lover : 

* Lover, lover, have you found the golden ball,' etc. 

1 Yes, I have found your golden ball, 

And I can set you free ; 
I *m not come to see you hung 

Upon the gallows-tree.' " 

354, IV, 481 f. 

'The Prickly Bush,' Mr Heywood Stunner, in English 
County Songs, by Lucy E. Broadwood and J. A. Fuller 
Maitland, p 112. From Someisetsmre. 

1 * hangman, hold thy hand/ he cried, 

* O hold thy hand awhile, 
For I can see my own dear father 
Coming over yonder stile. 

2 ' father, have you brought me gold ? 

Or will you set me free ? 
Or be you come to see me hung, 
All on this high gallows-tree ? ' 

3 * No, I have not brought thee gold, 

And I will not set thee free, 

But I am come to see thee hung,. 

All on this high gallows-tree.' 

4 * Oh, the prickly bush, the prickly bush, 

It pricked my heart full sore ; 
If ever I get out of the prickly bush, 
I '11 never get in any more.' 

The above is repeated three times more, with the 
successive substitution of ' mother/ ( brother,' * sister/ 
for * father.' Then the first two stanzas are repeated, 
with 'sweetheart* for ' father/ and instead of 3 is 
sung : 



6 * Yes, I have brought thee gold/ she cried, 

* And I will set thee free, 
And I am come, hut not to see thee hung 

All on this high gallous-tree.' 
'Oh, the prickly hush,' etc. 

In this version, a man is expressly delivered by 
a maid, contrary to the general course of tradition. 
So apparently in J, IV, 481, as understood by Dr. 
Birkbeck Hill. 

96. The Qay Goshawk. 

P. 355. M G. Lewis, in a letter of May 29, 1800 
(Letters at Abbotsford, I, No 30), refers to a copy of 
this ballad (and one of * Brown Adam ') which he had 
furnished Scott This might perhaps be the " MS. of 
some antiquity " (printed, IV, 482) 

As to the bird's part in this ballad, compare the fol- 
lowing passage. A son, in prison, sending a letter to 
his mother by a bird, gives this charge 

Quando giugnerete alia porta mia, 

La sta un uhvo. 

Posati su quell' uhvo, 

V agita e dibatti 1' ali, 

Che di te caderk il fogho di carta. 

DC Rada, Rapsodic d'un poema Albanese, I, canto 
xvi, p. 29. 

P. 356 a, Til, 517 a, IV, 482 a. French. Add 
* La belle qui fait la morte,' ' La fillc du due de Mont- 
brison,' Pineau, Le Folk-Lore du Poitou, p. 311, p 389 
(each, six stanzas) ; * La belle dans la tour,' six copies 
(besides Belle Idome repeated), M. Wilmotte in Bulle- 
tin de Folklore, Socie'te du Folklore Wallon, 1893, p 35 

356 b t 3d paragraph, III, 51 7 a Add A copy of ' Les 
trois capitames,' in Mdlusine, VI, 52, 183 , Wallonia, 
I, 38 ; " Fred Thomas, La Mosaique du Midi, V, 1841 , 
C. Beauquier, Mem. de la Soc. d'Himulation du Doubs, 
1890," Me'lusine, VI, 220, where also a Catalan version, 
which had escaped my notice, Milk y Fontanals, Ro- 
mancerillo, p 259, No 264, is registered by M. Don- 
cieux. A Breton version, Melusino, VI, 182. 

99. Johnie Soot. 

P. 379. A. Considering that Sir Walter Scott pro- 
fesses to have derived some variations from recitation 
in the south of Scotland (see the note, IV, 887), the 
copy in " Scottish Songs " may be fully collated, small 
as will be the value of the result. 

' John the Little Scott/ fol. 24. 

1 John the Scot was as brave a knight 

As ever shook a speir, 
And he is up to fair England, 
The king's braid banner to bear. 

2 And while he was in fair England, 

Sae fair his hap did prove 
That of the king's ae daughter dear 
He wan the heart and love. 

3 But word is gane to the English king, 

And an angry man was he, 
And he has sworn by salt and bread 
They should it dear abye. 

4 wanting. 5 1 . Then Johny 's gane. 5 2 - 4 . I wot 

5 8 . the English. 

6 8 4 . To hear some news from his true love, 

Least she had sufferd wrang. 
7 2 . That will win hose and shoon. 
7 8 . will gang into. 8 1 . Then up there. 
9 wanting 10*. to grass growing. 
II 1 . And when : to the king's castle. 
II 8 . saw that fair ladye. 12 2 , 13 2 . ain sel. 
12*. And speer na your father's IS 1 . Here take, 
13 8 to feir Scotland 13 4 . Your true love waits. 
14 1 . The ladie turned her round about. 
14 4 . Unless. 15 2 In prison pinching cold 
15 8 . My garters are of. 15* the silk and gold 
16 8 . And hie thee back to yon Scottish knight. 
17 1 . quickly sped. 

18 1 He told him then that ladie's words 
18 2 . He told him. 
18 8 - 4 But ere the tale was half said out 

Sae loudly to horse he did ca. 
19 4 . That should have been my bride. 
20 1 . And spak his mither dear. 
20 s For gin you 're taen 20 4 . ye '11 
21 1 . and spak. 21 2 . And Johny 's true. 
21 4 And his surety I will 
22. Then when they cam to English ground 

They gard the mass be sung, 
And the firsten town that they cam to 

They gard the bells be rung. 
23 1 And the nextm cam to 23 4 Were 
24 1 And when : the high castle 24 2 rode 
25 8 Or is it. 26 1 . I 'm not. 26 2 James our 
26 8 But Johny Scot, the little Scot. 
27 1 . is thy name. 27 8 eer. 
28 1 and spak the gallant. 28 8 . hundred. 
28 4 That will die or. 29 1 and spak. 
29 2 . And sae scornfully leugh he 29*. my bower 
SO 1 , boon, said the little Scot 
SO 2 Bring forth y OUT. 30 8 . falls. 30 4 . I hae. 

31 Out then cam that Italian knight, 

A griesly sight to see ; 
Between his een there was a span, 
Between his shoulders three and three. 

And forth then came brave John the Scot, 

He scarcely reachd his knee, 
Yet on the point of Johny 's brand 

The Italian knight did die. 



32 And syne has he waved his bludie glaive, 

And slait it on the plain ; 
' Are there any more Italian dogs 
That you wish to be slain? 

33 ' A clerk, a clerk/ the king he cried, 

1 To register this deed ; ' 
4 A priest, a priest,' Pitnochtan cried, 
' To marry us wi speed/ 

34 wanting. 

384. A copy of D was sent by Motherwell to C. K 
Sharpe with a letter of December 6, 1824, in which 
many of the variations of b were introduced into a. 

101. Willie o Douglas Dale. 

P. 407. A. Collated with the copy in the Abbotsford 
MS. " Scottish Songs/ as to which see the note at 
IV, 387 

Willie of Douglas-dale/ fol. 16. 

I 1 , was a gallant squire. 2 1 . the English court. 

2*. When. 2 4 . But her he neer could. 3 1 once. 

3 2 . the wanting. 3 4 By the ae. 4 1 . louted low. 

4 2 . His cap low in his. 

4*. I greet ye well, ye gentle knight. 

4 4 . your cap. 5 1 . knight, fair dame. 

5 2 . Nor eer can hope. 5 8 . am but a humble squire. 

5 4 . That serves. 6 1 . Gae 6 2 baith night. 

6 8 . tempting written before face and struck out. 

6 4 . ever I. 7 wanting 

8 2 He watchd that ladye's. 

8*. passd the twa between 

9 1 . narrow is my gown, Willy 

9*. And short are my petticoats. 9 4 . sae wide. 

9'. is laid. 10 1 . gin my father get wit 

10 a . never eat. 10 8 - 6 get wit. 10 4 gae. 

10. Ah, Willy, you '11. II 1 . O gin ye '11. 

II 2 . gang. II 8 into. 12 wanting 

14 1 . day was come. 14 2 . den. 

14 s . That gentle ladye. 14 4 . While the. 

15* 4 . Or lack ye ony tender love 

That may assuage your pain 

16 l . wan na. 16 2 . for my 16* And alas, alas. 

171. He'sfelld the thorn in. 

17*. And blawn it to a flame. 

1 7*. He 's strewd it. 

1 7 4 . To cheer that lovely dame. 

18 1 He's in gude. 

18 2 . And laid the fair ladye. 

18*. he 's happed her oer wi withered. 

18 4 . his coat and goun. 19 wanting. 

20 1 . branch red. 20*. grew in gude grene wood. 

20*. And brought her a draught 

20 4 . I wot they did her good. 

21-23 wanting. 24 1 . to shoot. 

24 a has he wanting. 25 (after SO). 

26 1 ' 2 . Syne has he sought the forest through, 

Sum woman's help to gain. 
26*. he came to a bonny. 

27 1 . O will ye leave the sheep, he says. 

27 2 . And come. 27 8 . ye. 27 4 . give. 

28 a She fell down. 28 8 . fair dame. 28 4 . For a. 
29 2 . but wanting 29 8 . ye : flocks. 
29 4 . And gang to fair. 30 8 . for you. 
SO 4 , marry wanting Scottish man. 
AJler 30 (see 25) . 

O taen has she the bonny knave-boy 
And washd him in the milke, 

And she has tended the sick lady, 

And rowd her in the silk. 
SI 1 maid. 31 8 took to fair. 82 1 . an wanting. 
32 8 they gat safe 32 4 Himself was lord therein. 

411 From "The Old Lady's Collection," No 33, 
4 Willie of Duglass Daill ' The Dame Oliphant of the 
other versions is somewhat disguised in the old lady's 
writing as Demelefond, Demelofen, etc. 

1 Willie was a rich man's son, 

A rich man's son was he ; 
Hee thought his father lake to sair, 

An his mother of mine digree, 
An he is on to our English court, 

To serve for meatt an fee. 

2 He hadno ben in our king's court 

A tuall-month an a day, 
Till he fell in love we Mary, Dem [Elejfon, 
An a great buity was she. 

3 He hadno ben in our king's court 

A tuall-month an a houre, 
Till he dreamed a lady of buty bright 
Gave him a rosey flour. 

4 The lady touk her mantell her about, 

Her gooun-teall in her hand, 
An she is on to gued grean woud, 
As fast as she could gang. 


An ther she spayed a gellant knight, 
Kamen his yallou hear. 

6 * What is yer name, sir knight ? 

For a knight I am sure ye be ; * 
' I am called Willie of Duglas Dall, 
Did ye never hear of me ? ' 



1 If ye be Willie of Duglass Daill, 
I afft have heard of thee.' 

7 l What is yer name, ye lovely dame ? 

For a lady I trou ye be ; ' 
I am called Mary, Dem Elefond, 
Did ye never hear of me ? * 

8 * In ye be Mary, Dem Elefon, 

As I trust well ye be, 

My heart ye haa ye we.' 

9 The lady was fair an rear, 

The knight's heart had she ; 
The knight was tall an straght withall, 
The lady's hart had he. 

10 It fell ance upon a day 

Dem Elof en thought lang, 

An she is on to Willie's hour, 

As fast as she could gang. 

11 ' Narrou is my pettecot, Willie, 

It ance was saa wide, 
An narrou is my stays, Willie, 

Att ance wer saa wide, 
An paill is my chikes, Willie, 

An laigh, laigh is my pride. 

12 ' 

An the knights of my father's court gat word 

of this, 
I feer they wad gare ye diee.' 

13 He touke 

The lady by the hand, 
An they are one to gued green woud, 
As fast as they coud gang. 

14 It fell ance upon a day 

Strong travileng came her tell, 

15 ' Ye take your boue on yer shoulder, 

Yer arrous in yer hand, 
An ye gaa farr throu green woud, 
An shout some veneson. 

16 ' Fan ye hear me loud cray, 

Bide far awaa f ra me, 

Bat fan ye hear me laying still 
Ye may come back an see. 1 

17 Fan he hard her loud cray, 

He bad far awaa, 
Bat fan he heard her laying still 

He did come an see, 
An he got her 

An her young son her wee. 

18 He milked the goats, 

An feed his young son wee, 
And he made a fire of the oken speak, 
An wanned his lady wee. 

19 It fell ance upon a day 

The lady though[t] lang : 
* An ye haa any place in fair Scotland, Willie, 
I wiss ye wad haa me hame.' 


I ha lands an reants saa friee, 
The bonny lands of Duglass Daill, 
They a' lay bread an friee.' 

21 He 's taen the knight-bairn in his arms, 

His lady by the hand, 
An he is out throu gued green woud, 
As fast as they coud gang. 


Till they came to a maid kepping her goats, 

23 < Halle, ye maid, 

For a maid ye seem to be ; 
Will ye live your goats kepping 
An goo we me ? 

24 ' I cannot live my father, I canno live my 


Nor yet my brethren three ; 
I cannot live my goats kepping, 
An goo along we the. 

25 * Fatt is your name, ye lovely dame ? 

For a lady I am shour ye be ; ' 
' I am called Mary, Dem Elifond, 
Did ye never hear of me ? ' 

26 ' If ye be Mary, Dem Elifond, 

As I trust well ye be, 



I will live my goats kepping 
An goo along we the. 

27 ( For I will live my father, an I ill live my 


An my brothers three, 

An I will live my goats, 

An go along we thee.' 

28 The maid touke the knight-bairn in her ar[m]s, 

An his lady took he, 
An they are to gued ship-bourd, 
And took God to be ther fores teed, an didne 
fear to dronn. 

29 An they landed att Duglas Dalle, 

Far the lands was braid an f rie, 
An the knight-bairn was Black Sir James of 

Duglas Dall, 
An a gallant knight was hee. 

Written, like all the other pieces in the col- 
lectioUj without division into stanzas or 

2 8 . Demefon ; contracted at the edge. 
9 8 . was tell. ll a . Read side ? 
14 2 . Perhaps her tee. 

106. The Bailiffs Daughter of Islington. 

P. 426 f. Of the Italian ballad there are many more 
versions, but it is needless to cite them. Add for 
Spanish : ' La Ausencia/ Pidal, Asturian Romances, 
Nos 81, 32, p. 152 f. 

107. Will Stewart and John. 

P. 488 b, 2d paragraph. Beating of daughters. 

Elizabeth Pas ton, a marriageable woman, was 
"betyn onys in the weke, or twyes, and som tyme 
twyes on a day, and hir hed broken in to or thre 
places/' (1449.) Paston Letters, ed Gairdner, I, 90. 

110. The Knight and the Shepherd's 

P. 457, IV, 492. From " The Old Lady's Collec- 
tion," No 34, 4 Earl Richerd,= Skene, M. 


1 Ther was a sheperd's daughter 
Keeped hogs upon yon hill, 

An by came [t]her a gentell knight, 
An he wad haa his will. 

2 Fan his will 

Of her he had taiin, 
1 Kind sir, for your curtisy, 
Will ye tell me yer name ? ' 

3 ' Some they caa me Joke, 

An some caa me John, 
Bat fan I am in our king's court 
Hichkoke is my name/ 

4 The lady bieng well book-read 

She spealled it our agen : 
' Hichkoke in Latin 
Is Earl Richerd att heam.' 

5 He patt his Hag out-our his stead 

An to the gate has gain ; 
She kilted up her green clathing 
An fast folloued she. 

6 < Turn back, ye carl's dother, 

An dinne* f ollou me ; 

It setts no carl's dothers 

King's courts to see.' 

7 * Perhaps I am a carle's dother, 

Perhaps I am nean, 
Bat fan ye gat me in free forest 
Ye siid haa latten alean.' 

8 Fan they came to yon wan water 

That a' man cas Glide, 
He luked our his left shoulder, 
Says, Fair maid, will ye ride v 

9 ' I learned it in my mother's hour, 

I watt I learned it well, 
Fan I came to wan water 
To soum as dos the call. 

10 ' I learned it in my mother's bour, 

I wiss I had learned it better, 
Fan I came to wan watter 
To sume as dos the otter.' 

11 She touk a golden comb, 

Combed out her yallou hear, 



12 * Far gatt ye that, ye carl's dother, 

I pray ye tell to me ; ' 
' I gatt it fra my mither,' she says, 
' To beguile sick sparks as ye.' 

13 * Gin ye be a carl's gett, 

As I trou well ye be, 
Far gatt ye a' that fine clothing, 
To cloath yer body we ? ' 

14 * My mother was an ill woman, 

An ill woman was she, 
An she gatt a' that fine clathing, 
Frae sick chaps as ye.' 

15 Fan they came to our king's court, 

She fell lou doun on her knee : 
4 Win up, ye fair may, 

What may ye want we me ? ' 
' Ther is a knight in your court 

This day has robbed me.' 

16 ' Has he robbed you of your goud ? 

Or of your whit monie ? 
Or of your meadnhead, 
The flour of your body ? ' 

17 ( He has no robbed me of my goud, 

Nor yet of my fiee, 

Bat he has robed me of my madinhead, 
The flour of my body.' 

18 < Wad ye keen the knight, 

If ye did him see ? ' 
* I wad keen him well by his well-fared face 

An the blieth blink of his eay.' 
An sighan says the king, 

I wiss it bine my brother Richie ! 

19 The king called on his merry men a', 

By an, by tua, by three ; 
Earl Bicherd had ay ben the first, 
Bat the last man was he. 

20 By that ye might a well kent 

The gulty man was he ; 

She took him by the hand, 

Says, That same is hee. 

21 Ther was a brand laid doun to her, 

A brand batt an a ring, 
Three times she minted to the brand, 
Bat she took up the ring ; 

A' that was in the court 

'S counted her a wise woman. 

22 ' I will gee ye five hundred pound, 

To make yer marrage we, 
An ye gie hame, ye carl's dother, 
An fash na mare we me.' 

23 * Ye keep yer five hundred pound, 

To make yer marreg we, 
For I will ha nathing bat yer sell, 
The king he promised me.' 

24 ' I ill gee ye a thousand poun, 

To make yer marrage we, 

An ye gae hame, ye carl's gett, 

An fash na mare we me.' 

25 * Ye keep yer thousand pound, 

To make yer marreg we, 
For I ill ha nathing batt yer sell, 
The king he promised me.' 

26 He toke her doun 

An clothed her in green ; 
Fan she cam up, 

She was fairer then the quin. 

27 Fan they gaid to Mary Kirk, 

The nettels grue by dike : 
1 O gin my xnidder war hear, 

Sai clean as she wad them peak ! * 

28 He drue his hat out-our his eayn, 

The tear blinded his eay ; 
She drue back her yallou loaks, 
An a light laughter luke she. 

29 Fan she came by yon mill-toun, 

* O well may the mill goo, 

An well matt she be ! 
For aften ha ye filled my poke 

We the whit meall an the gray/ 

30 4 1 wiss I had druken the water 

Fan I drank the aill, 
Or any carl's dother 

Suld ha tald me siken a teall.' 

31 ' Perhaps I am a carl's dother, 

Perhaps I am nean ; 



Fan ye gatt me in f rie forest, 
Ye sud ha latten alean. 

32 ' Take awa yer silver spons, 

Far awa fra me, 

An ye gee me t[he] ram-horn [s]pons, 
Them I am best used we. 

2 9 . ha had. 

8 2 . cas es : perhaps caes was meant. 
9 4 . to eull. 18 6 . sigh an. 21 8 . courts. 
32 8 . t with an imperfect letter, for the. 
37 2 . Perhaps we. 

39*, 40 1 . The t is not crossed in Heartfourd, 
and Hearlf ourd may be meant. 

33 Ye take awa yer tabel-cloths, 

Far awa fra me, 
An ye gee me a mukell dish 
I am best used we. 

34 * For if I had my mukel dish hear, 

An sayn an it war fou, 
I wad sup till I war sared, 

An sayn lay doun my head an slep like ony 

35 ' Ye take away yer hollan shits, 

Far awa fra me, 
An ye bring me a cannas, 

It 's the thing I ben eased we.' 

36 Fan bells wer rung, an mess was sung, 

An a' man boun to bed, 
Earl Richerd an the carl's dother 
In a bed [were laid]. 

37 ' Lay yond, lay yond, ye carl's dother, 

Your hot skin . . me ; 
It setts na carl's dothers 
In earls' beds to be.' 

38 * Perhaps I am a carl's dother, 

Perhaps I am nean ; 
Bat fan ye gat me in free forest 
Ye might a latten alean.' 

39 Up starts the Bellie Blind, 

Att ther bed-head : 
( I think it is a meatt marrage 

Betuen the ane an the eather, 
The Earl of Heartfourds ae daughter 

An the Quien of England's brother.' 

40 'If this be the Earl of Heart fourd's ae 


As I trust well it be, 
Mony a gued hors have I redden 
For the love of the.' 

Kidson's Traditional Tunes, p 20, from Mr Benjamin 
Holgate, Leeds. 

1 There was a shepherd's daughter 

Who kept sheep on yon hill ; 
There came a young man riding by, 
Who swore he 'd have his will. 
Fol lol lay 
Fol lol di diddle lol di day 

2 1 ' 4 . He took her by the lilly-white hand 
And by her silken sleeve, 

3 4 . Or tell to me your name. 

4 * Oh, ome they call me Jack, sweetheart, 

And some they call me Will, 
But when I ride the king's high-gate 
My name is Sweet William.' 

4 4 . But name. 

Findlay's MSS, 1, 208, from Mr McKenzie, Advie, Moray- 


1 'T is said a shepherd's ae daughter 

Kept sheep upon a hill, 
An by there cam a courteous knight, 
An he wad hae his will. 

2 He 's taen her by the milk-white hand 

An by the grass-green sleeve, 
He 's laid her doon at the fit o a bush, 
An neer ance speired her leave. 

112. The Baffled Knight. 

P. 480 a, 4th paragraph. ' The Politick Maid ' was 
entered to Thomas Lambert, 16th May, 1637 : Arber, 
Stationers' Registers, IV, 385. 

481 b, III, 518 a, IV, 495 a. Tears. * Chasseur, 
mon beau chasseur,* Pineau, Le Folk-Lore du Poitou, 
p. 251. 



Varieties. ' La jolie Couturiere,' Pineau, p. 285. 
488 b. ' La jolie Bateliere,' Romania, XIII, 410 ; 
La Tradition, VII, 110. 

117. A Qest of Robyn Hode. 

P. 40 b. References to Robin Hood in the 15th cen- 

And many men speken of Robyn Hood 
And shotte nevere in bis bowe, 

Reply of Friar Dow Topias, in Wright's Poetical 
Poems and Songs relating to English History, II, 59, 
dated by Wright 1401, which may be rather too early. 
The proverbial phrase shows that Robin Hood had long 
been familiar to the English People. 

120. Robin Hood's Death. 

P. 103 a, note *. ' Give me my God ' is not perhaps 
too bold a suggestion. We have ' yeve me my savyour ' 
m the Romance of the Rose, Morns, v. 6436, trans- 
lating * le cors nostre seigneur.' 

132. The Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood. 

P. 155 The following copy, entitled ' Robin Hood 
and the Proud Pedlar,' is from a garland in a collection 
of folio sheet-ballads mostly dated 1775, in the British 
Museum, 1346, in. 7(9) The Museum catalogue assigns 
the ballads to Edinburgh. I owe my knowledge of this 
piece to Mr P. Z Round. 

1 There was a proud pedlar, a fine pedlar, 

a proud pedlar he seemd to be, 
And he 's taen his pack upon his back, 
and went linking over the lee. 

2 Where he met two troublesome men, 

troublesome men they seemd to be, 
The one of them was Robin Hood, 
the other Little John so free. 

S * O what is that into thy pack ? 

thou pedlar proud now tell to me ; * 

4 There 's seven suits of good green silk, 

and bow-strings either two or three/ 

4 ' If there 's seven suits of good green silk, 

and silken bow-strings two or three, 
Then be my sooth, ' says Little John, 
' there 's some of them must fall to me.' 

5 Then he 's taen his pack off his back, 

and laid it low down by his knee 
' WTiere 's the man fit to drive me frae 't? 
then pack and all to him I '11 gie ' 

6 Then Little John pulld out his sword, 

the pedler he pulld out bus brand, 
They swapped swords till they did sweat ; 
4 O pedlar fine, now hold thy hand ! ' 

7 O fy O fy ' ' said Robin Hood, 

* O f y ' O f y f that must not be, 
For I 've seen a man in greater strait 

than to pay him and pedlars three ' 

8 * Then try him, try him, master,' he said, 

1 O tiy him now, master,' said he, 
( For by me sooth,' said Little John, 

* master, 'tis neither you nor me.' 

9 Bold Robin pulld out his sword, 

the pedlar he pulld out his brand, 
They swapped swords till they did sweat ; 

* O pedlar fine, now hold thy hand' 

10 * O what 's thy name,' says Robin Hood, 

* now, pedlar fine, come tell to me , ' 
' No, be my sooth, that will I not, 

till I know what your names may be ' 

1 1 ' The one of us ['s ) calld Robin Hood, 

the other Little John so free, 
And now it lies into thy breast 

whether thou 'It tell thy name to me.' 

1 2 ' I 'm Gamwell gay, of good green wood, 

my fame is far beyond the sea , 
For killing a man in my father's land 
my native land I was forccl to flee ' 

13 'If thou be Gamwell of the green wood, 

thy fame is far beyond the sea , 
And be my sooth,' said Little John, 
4 my sister's son thou needs must be. 

14 l But what was that was on thy back ? 

O, cousin Gamwell, tell unto me , ' 
' It is seven Barks and three gravats, 
is all the kitt that I carry.' 

15 They smoothd their words and sheathd their swords, 

and kissd and clapt most tenderly , 
To a tavern then they went to dine, 
and drank about most heartily. 

July, 1775. 

Captain Delany's Garland, containing five new 
songs, ... II, Robin Hood and the Proud 

6 2 , 6*, 9* padler. 



162. Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow. 

P. 223. Letter shot to its address on an arrow. 
Afanasief, Russian Popular Tales, V, 183. 

165. Sir Hugh, or, The Jew's Daughter. 

P. 233, IV, 497. 

'Little Sir William,' Miss M H Mason's Nursery 
Rhymes and Country Songs, p 46 

1 Easter Day was a holiday, 

Of all days in the year, 
And all the little schoolfellows went out to 

Bat Sir William was not there. 

2 Mamma went to the Jew's wife's house, 

And knocked at the ring, 
Saying, Little Sir William, if you are there, 
Oh, let your mother in ! 

3 The Jew's wife opened the door and said, 

He is not here to-day ; 
He is with the little schoolfellows out on the 

Flaying some pretty play 

4 Mamma went to the Boyne water, 

That is so wide and deep, 
Saying, Little Sir William, if you are there, 
Oh, pity your mother's weep r 

5 4 How can I pity your weep, mother, 

And I so long in pain '* 

Foi the little penknife sticks close in my heart, 
And the Jew's wife has mo slam 

G ' Go home, go home, my mother dear, 

And prepare my winding sheet, 
For tomorrow morning before eight o'clock 
You with my hody shall meet 

7 And lay my Prayer-Book at my head, 

And my grammar at my feet, 
That all the little schoolfellows as they pass 


May read them for my sake.' 


Notes and Queries, Eighth Series, TI, 43, July, 1 842 ' The 
Jew's Daughter,' communicated by Mr C. W. Penny, as 
VOL. v 31 

repeated to his brother, the vicar of Stixwould, Lincolnshire, 
by one of the oldest women in the parish " A song sung by 
his nurse to a Lincolnshire gentleman, now over sixty years 
of age." 

1 You toss your ball so high, 

You toss your ball so low, 
You toss your ball into the Jew's garden, 
Where the pretty flowers grow. 

2 Out came one of the Jew's daughters, 

Dressed all in green : 
4 Come hither, pretty little dear, 
And fetch your ball again.' 

3 She showed him a rosy-cheeked apple, 

She showed him a gay gold ring, 
She showed him a cherry as red as blood, 
And that enticed him in. 

4 She set him in a golden chair, 

She gave him kisses sweet, 
She threw him down a darksome well, 
More than fifty feet deep. 

156. Queen Eleanor's Confession. 

P 259 B Here given as it stands m " The Old 
Lady's Collection," No 6. 

1 Our quin *s seek, an very seek, 

She 's seek an leak to dee, 
An she has sent for the fnears of France, 
To speak we her spedely 

2 ' Ye '11 pit on a frier's robe, 

An I '11 put one another, 
An we '11 goo to madam the Quin, 
Leak fra) ers bath together.' 

8 * God forbid,' sayes Earl Marchell, 

4 That ever the leak sud be, 
That I sud begule madam the Quin ; 
I wad be handed hoi.' 

4 . 

The King siiar by the croun an the septiT roun 
Eearl Marchell sudne dei. 

5 The king pat on a frier's rob, 

Eearl Marchell on anether, 
The 'r on to the Quin, 

Like fraj ers bath together. 

6 ' Gin ye be the frayers of France,' she says, 

1 As I trust wiell ye be, 
Bat an ye be ony cather men 
Ye sail be hanged he.' 



7 The king he turned him roun, 

An by his troth snare he, 
' We ha na sung masse 
San we came fra the sea.' 

8 ( The first sin ever I did, 

An a very grat sin it was tee, 
I gaa my medenhead to Earl Marchell, 
Below a green-wood tree.' 

9 ' That was a sin, an a very grate sin, 

Bat pardoned it man be ; ' 
' We menement/ said Earl Marchell, 
Bat a heave, heave heart had he. 

10 The nist sin ever I did, 

An a grat sin it was tee, 
I pusned Lady Rosomon, 
An the King's darling was she.' 

11 ' That was a sin, an a grat sin, 

Bat pardoned it may be ; ' 
' We menement/ said King Henry, 
Bat a heave, heave heart had he. 

12 The nist sin I ever did, 

An a grat sin it was tee, 
I keepet pusin in my bosom seven year 
To pusin him King Henre.' 

13 ' That was a sin, an a grat sin, 

Bat pardoned it may be ; ' 
We menement,' sa[i]d King Henrie, 
Bat a heave, heave heart had he. 

14 ' O see ye na yon bony boys, 

As they play att the baa? 
An see ye na Earl Merchal's son? 
I lee him best of all 

15 * But see ye na King Henry's son? 

He is headed leak a bull an baked like a bore, 

I leak him warst of a' : ' 
'An, by my soth,' says him King Henry, 

'I leak him best of the twa.' 

16 The king he turned him roun, 

Pat on the coat of goud, 
The Quin turned her roun, 
The king to behald. 

17 ' 

Gin I had na sworn by the croun an the septer roun, 
Eearl Marchell sod ben gared dee.' 

Written without division into stanzas or verses. 
2*. Anye'll. 

157. Grade Wallace. 

P. 265. From C. K. Sharpe's "first collection,' 1 
p. 18. 


" An old song shewing how Sir Wm Wallace killed thirty 
Englishmen." This copy resembles C. 

1 Decencey ' in 8 2 is the reciter's rendering of the bencite 
(benedicite) of C 6 2 . 

1 ' I wish I had a king/ brave Wallace he said, 

' That every brave Scotsman might leave by 

his oun, 

For between me and my sovreign leige 
I think I see some ill [seed] so wen/ 

2 Brave Wallace out-oer yon river he lap, 

And he lighted low down on the plain, 
And he came to a gay lady, 
As she was at the well washing. 

3 ' Some tidings, some tidings/ brave Wallace he 


' Some tidings ye most tell unto me ; 
Now since we are met here togither on the 

Some tidings ye most tell unto me." 

4 ' O go ye down to yon wee ale-house, 

And there is fifeteen Englishmen, 
And they are seeking for good Wallace, 
And him to take and him for to hang.' 

6 ' I wish I had a penny in my pocket/ he says, 

' Or although it were but a bare baubee, 
And I wad away to the wee ale-house, 
The fifeteen Englishmen to see.' 

6 She *s put hir hand in hir left pocket, 

And fifeteen shillings to him she told down : 
* If ever I live to come back this way, 
The money 's be well paid agein.' 

7 He louted twaf auld oer a stick, 

And he louted threefauld oer a tree, 
And he 'es gane awa to the wee ale-house, 
The fifeteen Englishmen to see. 

8 When he came to the wee ale-house, 

He walked ben, says, Decencey be there ! 
The Engilish proud captain he awnsered him, 
And he awnsered him with a graid domi- 



9 ' Why, where wast thou horn, thou old crooked 


Where and of what country ? * 
1 1 am a true Scotsman bred and horn, 

And an auld crooked carle, just sic as ye 
may see/ 

10 ' I wad gee fifeteen shillings/ the captain he 

' To an auld crooked carle, just sic a ane as 


If ye wad tell me of Willie Wallace, 
For he 's the man I wad fain see/ 

11 ' O hold your hand,' brave Wallace he said, 

4 And let me see if yeer coin be good ; 
If ye wad give fifeteen shillings more, 
Ye never hade a better boad.' 

12 He 's tean the captain out-oer the chaft-blade, 

Till a bitt of meat he never did eat mair ; 
He stickit a' the reste as the sat aroun the table, 
And he left them all a spraulling there. 

13 ' Get up, get up, goodwife,' he says, 

' Get up and get me some denner in haste, 
For it is now three days and nights 

Since a bit of meat my mouth did taste/ 

14 The denner was not well made ready, 

Nor was it on the table sett, 
Till other fifeteen English men 
Were a' perading about the yett 

15 * Come out, come out now, Wallace,' they crys, 

* For this is the place ye 'es sure for [to] die ; ' 
' I lippen not sae little to good,' he says, 

* Although I be but ill-wordie.' 

16 The goodman ran butt, the goodwife ran ben, 

They put the house in such a fever ! 
Five of them he sticket where they stood, 
And other five he smoddered in the gitter. 

17 Five of them he folowd to the merry green- 


And these five he hangt on a grain, 
And gin the morn at ten o'clock 

He was wi his mirry men at Lochmaben. 

6 a . 15. 

S 1 . Perhaps we should read be here, as in A 
10 s , but other copies have bad . . . there, 

and it is likely enough that there is a con- 
fusion of the oblique and the direct form. 
14*. a. 

265 b, note f. ' Let me see if your money be good, 
and if it be true and right, you'll maybe get the down- 
come of Robinhood,' from a recited copy, in the pre- 
face to Finlay's Scottish Ballads, I, xv. 

158. Hugh Spencer's Feats in France. 

P. 276. What is narrated of Walter in the Chroni- 
con Novalese is likewise told of Ogier by Alexander 
Neckam, De Naturis Rerum, ed. T. Wright, p. 261 ff. 
(see also the note at p. Ivi), in a copy of Turpin's 
Chronicle, Ward, Catalogue of Romances, I, 579 f., 
and (excepting the monastery) in La Chevalerie Ogier, 
ed. Barrois, v. 10390 ff.; of Heimir, Saga BiSriks af 
Bern, c. 429 ff., Unger, p. 361 ff.; and in part in the 
ballad of Svend Felding,' Grundtvig, No 31, I, 398. 
See Grundtvig's preface to No 15, 1, 216 ff.; Ward, as 
above ; Voretzsch, Ueber die Sage von Ogier dem 
Danen, p. 113 ff. 

161. The Battle of Otterburn. 

P. 289, IV, 499. From C. K. Sharpe's " first collec- 
tion," p. 21. Tradition in this copy, as in Herd's, B, 
ascribes the death of Douglas to an offended and treach- 
erous page. 

1 It was about the Lammes time, 

When moorland men do win their hay, 
Brave Earl Douglass, in armer bright, 
Marchd to the Border without delay. 

2 He hes tean wi him the Lindseys light, 

And sae hes he the Gordons gay, 
And the Earl of Fife, without all strife, 
And Sir Heugh Montgomery upon a day. 

8 The hae brunt Northumberland, 

And sae have [the] Northumbershire, 
And fair Cluddendale they hae brunt it hale, 
And he 's left it all in fire fair. 

4 Ay till the came to Earl Percy's castle, 

Earl Percey's castle that stands sae high : 
* Come dowen, come dowen, thou proud Percey, 
Come down and talk one hour with me. 

5 ' Come down, come down, thou proud Percey, 

Come down and talk one hour with me ; 
For I hae burnt thy heritage, 
And sae will I thy building high.' 

6 * If ye hae brunt my heritage, 

O dule, O dule, and woe is me ! 



But will ye stay at the Otter burn 
Untill I gather my men to me? ' 

7 < O I will stay at the Otter burn 

The space of days two or three, 
And if ye do not meet me there, 
I will talk of thy coardie/ 

8 O he hes staid at the Otter burn 

The space of days two or three ; 
He sent his page unto his tent-door, 
For to see what ferleys he could see. 

9 * O yonder comes yon gallent knight, 

With all bonny banners high ; 
It wad do ony living good 
For to see the bonny coulers fly/ 

10 'If the tale be true/ Earl Douglass says, 

' The tidings ye have told to me, 
The fairest maid in Otterburn 
Thy bedfellow sure shall she be 

11 ' If the tale be false,' Earl Douglass says, 

' The tidings that ye tell to me, 
The highest tree in Otterburn, 
On it high hanged shall ye be/ 

12 Earl Douglass went to his tent-door, 

To see what ferleys he could see ; 
His little page came him behind, 
And ran him through the fair body. 

13 'If I had a little time,' he says, 

* To set in order my matters high, 
Ye Gordons gay, to you I say, 
See that ye let not my men away. 

14 'Ye Linseys light, both wise and wight, 

Be sure ye carry my coulers high ; 
Ye Gordons gay, again I say, 
See that ye let not my men away. 

15 ' Sir Heugh Montgomery, my sistir's son, 

I give you the vangaurd over all ; 
Let it neer be said into old England 
That so little made a true Scot fall 

16 ' lay me dowen by yon brecken-bush, 

That grows upon yon liley lea ; 
Let it neer be said into old England 
That so little made a true Scot die/ 

1 7 At last those two stout knights did meet, 

And O but they were wonderous keen ! 

The foght with sowards of the temperd steel, 

Till the drops of blood ran them betwen. 

18 '0 yeald thee, Percie/ Montgomery crys, 

' O yeald ye, or I '11 lay the low ; ' 
* To whome should I yeald ? to whom should I 

To whom should I yeald, since it most be so? ' 

1 9 * O yeald ye to yon breckan-bush, 

That grows upon yon lilley lea ; 
And if ye will not yeald to this, 
In truth, Earl Percey, I '11 gar ye die/ 

20 ' I will not yeald to a breckan-bush, 

Nor yet will I yeald to a brier , 
But fain wad I yeald to Earl Douglass, 

Or Sir Heugh Montgomery, if he were here ' 

21 O then this lord begun to faint, 

And let his soward drop to the ground ; 
Sir Heugh Montgomery, a courtious knight, 
He bravely took him by the hand. 

22 This deed was done at the Otter burn, 

Betwen the sunshine and the day ; 
Brave Earl Douglass there was slam, 
And they carried Percie captive away 

6 8 , 7 1 , 8 1 , 22 1 . Otterburn. 

292 b, 2d paragraph, 9th line C 20 8 . 4 may have 
been supplied by Scott ; not in Hogg's copy See IV, 
500, st. 21 

294, 520 a, IV, 499. St George, Our Lady's Knight. 

O seynt George, oure lady knyght, 
To that lady thow pray for me ' 

Lydgate, Kalendare, vv 113, 114, ed HorRtmaiin, in 
Hemg's Archiv, LXXX, 121. 

O blessyd Lady, Cristes moder dere, 
And thou Seynt Georgje, that called art her 
knyght ! 

Fabyan's Chronicles, ed. Ellis, 1811, p 601. 

162. The Hunting of the Cheviot. 

P. 306, IV, 502 Fighting on stump* Agolafre, 
fighting on his knees after his legs were broken, ' had 
wy)> ys axe a-slawe an hep of frenschemen ' Sir Fe- 
rumbras, v. 4608 ff., ed. Herrtage, The English Charle- 
magne Romances, I, 143. (The French text does not 
represent him as fighting on his knees Fierabras, 
ed. Kroeber and Servois, 1860, v. 4878 ff., p. 147) 
(G. L. K.) 


163. The Battle of Harlaw. 170. The Death of Queen Jane. 

P. 817 a, 2d paragraph. Of course Sir James the 
Rose and Sir John the Gryme came in from the ballad 
of ' Sir James the Rose/ 

164. King Henry Fifth's Conquest of 

P. 823. There is a copy (< The Battle of Agincourt ') 
in C. K. Sharpe's "first collection," p. 29, from which 
some variations may be given. 
n. 2 4 . And bring home the tribute that 's due to me. 
4 1 " 8 . My master the king salutes thee well, 
Salutes thee well, most graciously ; 
You must go send, etc. 
5 a " 4 . And darna come to my degree ; 
Go bid him play with his tenish balls, 

For in French lands he dare no me see. 
7 s * 4 . Such tidings from the king of France 

As I 'm sure wjth him you can ner agree. 
8* He bids you play with these tenish balls. 
10 4 They were a jovial good company. 
After 10: 

He counted oer his merry men, 

Told them by thirty and by three, 
And when the were all nuraberd oer 
He had thirty thousand brave and three. 

12 The first that fird, it was the French, 

Upon our English men so free, 
But we made ten thousand of them fall, 
And the rest were forc'd for there lives to flee. 

1 3 1 Soon we entered Paris gates. 
1 3 s . trumpets sounding high 
13 4 Have mercy on [my] men and me. 
14 1 ' 3 . Take home your tribute, the king he says, 
And three tons of gold I will give to thee. 

There is also a copy in "The Old Lady's Collec- 
tion," No 7, but it is not worth collating. 

167, Sir Andrew Barton. 

P. 838 b, IV, 502 b. Gold to bury body. Apol- 
lonius of Tyre So in Gower, Confessio Amantis, 
bk. viii, ed. Pauh, III, 312; in the English prose 
Kynge Apollyn of Thyre, Wynkyn de Worde, 1510, 
c. 19, fol. 48, of Ashbee's fac-siinile, 1870 ; in the Ger- 
man prose Appollonius Tyrus and Appolonius von 
Tiria, C. Schroder, Griseldis, Apollomus von Tyrus, 
aus Handschriften herausg., pp. 46, 110, Leipzig, 1873. 
(G. L. K ) 

P. 372. Communicated by Rev S. Baring-Gould, 
as recited by Samuel Force. 

1 Queen Jane, ! Queen Jane, ! what a lady 

was she ' 

And six weeks and a day in labour was she ; 
Queen Jane was in labour for six weeks and 

Till the women grew weary and fain would 

give oer. 

2 c women, women, good wives as ye be, 
Go send for King Henry and bring him to me. ' 
King Henry was sent for, and to her he came : 
* Dear lady, fair lady, your eyes they look dim.* 

3 King Henry came to ber, he came in all speed, 
In a gown of red velvet, from the heel to the 

head : 

4 King Henry, King Henry, if kind you will be, 
Send for a good doctor, and let him come to 


4 The doctor was sent for, he came with all 

In a gown of black velvet from the heel to the 

head , 

Tbe doctor was sent for and to her he came : 
< Dear lady, fair lady, your labour 's in vain. 7 

5 ' Dear doctor, dear doctor, will you do this 

for me ? 

open my right aide, and save my baby : ' 
Then out spake King Henry, That never can 


1 '(1 rather lose the branches than the top of 

the tree. 

6 The doctor gave a caudle, the death-sleep slept 

Then her right side was opened and tbe babe 

was set free ; 
The babe it was christened, and put out and 

But the royal Queen Jane lay cold in the dust 



Macmath MS., p. 99. Received November, 1 892, from the 
recitation of Mary Cochrane (Mrs Joseph Garmory), Abbey- 
yard, Crosamichael, Kirkcudbrightshire. Written down by 
her husband. 

1 Queen Jeanie was in labor for seven weeks in 

The women all being tired and quite gave her 


' women, dear women, if women you be, 
Send for my mother to come and see me.' 

2 Her mother was sent for and instantly came, 
Knelt down at the bedside where Queen Jeanie 

lay on : 

1 mother, dear mother, if mother you be, 
Send for my father to come and see me/ 

3 The father was sent for and instantly came, 
Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie 

lay on : 

' father, dear father, if father you be, 
Send for King Henry to come and see me.' 

4 King Henry was sent for and instantly came, 
Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie 

lay on: 

' Henry, King Henry, if Henry you be, 
Send for the doctor to come and see me.' 

5 The doctor was sent for and instantly came, 
Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie 

lay on : 

' doctor, dear doctor, if doctor you be, 
Open my left side and let the babe free.' 

6 Her left side was opened, the young prince was 

found : 

' doctor, dear doctor, lay me down on the 

7 Her bones were all broken and laid at ner feet, 
And they anointed her body with the ointment 

BO sweet, 
And ay as they weeped they wrung their hands 

For the fair flower of England will flourish no 


173. Mary Hamilton. 

P. 879. Stanzas 1, 2, 10 of C are printed in Mother- 
well^ Minstrelsy, p. 815, and 4, 9 of L at p. 816. 

880 a, line 18. Say Stewart, or Stewart. 

884. A a. Found in a small MS. volume, with 
the title " Songs " on the cover, entirely in Sharpe'0 
handwriting, p. 29. The only variations, besides a few 
in spelling, are these : 

9 1 . stairs. 17. the night's. 18 2 . they'l. 

889. F. This version was rendered by Skene with 
comparative fidelity. Still, the original, Quin Mary's 
Marreys,' No 12 of " The Old Lady's Collection," would 
of course have been given if it had been in hand, and 
should be substituted, opportunity occurring. It is 
therefore printed here. 

1 ' My father was the Duck of York, 

My mother a lady frie, 

My sell a dainnty damisall, 

Quin Mary sent for me. 

2 ' The quiii' s meat it was so suit, 

An her clething was sae rair, 
It made me lang for Suit Willie's bed, 
An I ill rue it ever mare. 

8 ' Mary Beeten, an Mary Sitton, 
An Lady Livenston, a' three, 
We '11 never mett in Quin Mary's bour nou, 
Marrys tho we be/ 

4 Quin Mary satt in her bour, 

Suing her selver seam ; 
She thought she hard a baby greet 
Bat an a lady mean. 

5 She throu her neddel frae her, 

Her seam out of her han, 
An she is on to Lady Marry 's bour, 
As fast as she could gang. 

6 Open yer dor, Lady Mary,' she says, 

( An lat me come in ; 

For I hear a baby greet, 

Bat an a lady meen.' 

7 < Ther is nae bab in my bour, madam the Quin, 

Nor never thinks to be, 
Bat the strong pains of gravell 
This night has sesed me.' 

8 She paat her fitt to the dor, 

Bat an her knee, 
Bolts of brass an irn bands 
In flinders she gart flee. 



9 She pat a ban to her bed-head 

A nether to her bed-feet, 
An bonny was the bab 
Was blabring in its bleed. 

10 * Wae worth ye, Lady Mary, 

An ill dead sail ye die ! 
For in ye widne keepet the bonny bab 
Ye might ha gen 't to me/ 

1 1 ' Lay na the witt on me, madam, 

Lay na the witt on me, 
For my fals love bare the v[e]pan att his side 
That gared my bern dee ' 

12 * Gett up, Lady Betton, get up, Lady Setton, 

An Lady Livenston, three, 
An we will on to Edenbrugh 
An tray this gay lady.' 

13 As she cam in the Cannogate, 

The burgers' wives they craved hon, ochon, 
ochree ' 

14 ' O had yer still, ye burgers' wives, 

An make na inane for me , 
Seek never grace out of a graslass face, 
For they ha nan to gee 

15 * Ye merchants an ye mareners, 

That trad on the sea, 
Ye dinne tell in my country 
The dead I am game to dee 

1 6 Ye merchants an ye mareners, 

That traid on the fame, 
Dinne tell in my countray 
Bat fatt I am coming name. 

17 ' Littel did my father think, 

Fan he brouch[t] me our the sea, 
That he woud see my yallou lokes 
Hang on a gallou-tree. 

18 * Littel did my midder think, 

Fan she brought me fra ham a, 
That she maugt see my yallou lokes 
Hang on a gallon- pine. 

19 < 

had yer ban a wee 1 
For yonder comes my father, 

1 am sure he '11 borrou me. 

20 * O some of yer goud, father, 

An of yer well won fee, 
To safe me [fra the high hill], 
[An] fra the gallage-tree.' 

21 Ye 's gett nane of my goud, 

Ner of my well wone fee, 
For I wead gee five hundred poun 
To see ye hanged hee.' 


O had yer han a wee 1 
Yonder is my love Willie, 
He will borrou me. 

28 ' O some of j er goud, my love Wille, 

An some of yer well wone fee, 
To save me fraa the high hill, 
An fraie the gallou-tree.' 

24 * Ye 's gett a' my goud, 

An a* my well won fee, 
To save ye fra the heading-hill, 
An fra the galla-tree.' 

4 a . Perhaps silver. 6 8 . lady greet : cf. 4. 

7 1 . n. II 2 . watt. II 8 . vpan? 23 1 . son Wille. 

892 a, H 8 4 . The nine " Anciently the supreme 
criminal court of Scotland was composed of nine 
members." Kinloch's note, Ancient Scottish Ballads, 
p. 259. This may afford a date. 

I. b. The three stanzas were given as written down 
from memory by Finlay see VIII, 507 b. 

174. Earl Bothwell. 

The following entry in the Stationers' Registers may 
refer to this ballad " 24 March, 1579, Thomas Gosson. 
Receaved of him for a ballad concernmge the murder 
of the late Kmge of Scottes." Arber, II, 349. 

178. Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon. 
P. 423, IV, 513. 


From " The Old Lady's Collection," No 28, ' Edom of 
Achendoon ' 

1 It fell about the Martimas time, 

Fan the wind blue loud an calld, 
Said Edom of Gordon to his men, 
We man dra till a hall. 

2 < An fatten a hall will we dra tell, 

My merry men a* an me ? 
We will to the house of Rothes, 
An see that gay lady.' 

3 The lady louked our castell-wa, 

Beheld the day ga doun, 



An she saa Edun of Gordon, 
Fase Edom of Ach[en]doun. 

4 4 Gee our yer house, ye gay lady, 

Gee our yer house to me , 
The night ye 's be my leall leman, 
The morn my lady free/ 

5 * I winne gee our my bonny house, 

To leard nor yet to loun, 
Nor will I gee our my bonny house 
To fase Edom of Achendoun. 

6 4 Bat ye gett me Cluny, Gight, or Glack, 

Or get him young Lesmore, 
An I ell gee our my bonny house 
To ony of a' the four.' 

7 4 Ye 's nether gett Cluny, Gight, nor Glack, 

Nor yet him young Lesmore, 
An ye man gee our yer bonny house, 
Winten ony of a' the four.' 

8 The ladie shot out of a shot-windou, 

It didne hurt his head, 
It only grased his knee 

9 ' Ye hast, my merry men a', 
Gather hathorn an fune, 

To see gin this lady will burn/ 

10 * Wai worth ye, Joke, my man ! 

I paid ye well yer fee, 
An ye tane out the quine^stane, 
Laten in the fire to me. 

11 4 Wae worth ye, Joke, my man ! 

I paid ye well yer hair, 
An ye t[a]en out the qunie-stane, 
To me laten in the fire.' 

12 4 Ye paid me well my meatt, lady, 

Ye paid me well my fee, 
Bat nou I am Edom of Gordon's man, 
Mane eather dee 'd or dree. 

13 ' Ye paid me well my meatt, lady, 

Ye paid me well my hire, 
But nou I am Edom of Gordon's man, 
To ye mane lat the fire.' 

14 Out spak her doughter, 

She was bath jimp an srnaa ; 
4 Ye take me in a pair of shets, 
Lat me our the castell-waa.' 

15 The pat her in a pair of shets, 

Lute her oure the castell-waa ; 
On the point of Edom of Gordon's lance 
She got a deadly f aa. 

16 Cherry, cherry was her cheeks, 

An bonny was her eyen ; 

17 He turned her about, 

4 1 might haa spared that bonny face 
To ha ben some man's delight. 

18 4 Chirry is yer chik, 

An bonny is yer eayn ; 
Ye 'r the first face I ever saa dead 
I wist liveng agen.' 

19 Out spak one of his men, 

As he stad by a stane ; 

* Lat it never be sade brave Edom of Gordon 
Was dantoned by a dame.' 

20 Out spake the bonny barn, 

It sat on the nurce's knee ; 
4 Gee our yer house, my mider dear, 
The reak it smothers me.' 

21 1 1 wad gee a' my silks,' she says, 

4 That Jays in mony a fall, 
To haa ye on the head of Mont Ganell, 
To gett three gasps of the call. 

22 * I wad gee a* my goud,' she says, 

4 Far it lays out an in, 
To haa ye on the head of Mount Ganill, 
To get three gasps of the wind.' 

23 that gued lord, 

As he came fraa the sea, 
4 1 see the house of Rothes in fire, 
God safe my gay ladie ' ' 

15". land. 



190. Jamie Tetter of the Fair Dodhead. 

P. 4. I am now able to give the imprinted copy, re- 
ferred to in the Border Minstrelsy, in which the Elliots 
take the place assigned in the other version to the 
Scotts. This I do by the assistance of Mr Macmath, 
the present possessor of the manuscript, which was for- 
merly among the papers of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. 
The hand *' is a good and careful one of about the be- 
ginning of this century, with a slight shake in it, and 
probably that of a person advanced in life." Be it ob- 
served that the title, in this case, is 4 Jamie Telfer in 
the Fair Dodhead,' signifying, according to Scottish 
usage, that Telfer was tenant simply, whereas * of ' 
would make him proprietor. 

Hogg, writing to Sir W. Scott (Letters, vol. i, No 44), 
says that ' Jamie Telfer,' as printed in the Minstrelsy, 
differs m many particulars from his mother's way of 
giving it. Mrs Hogg's version may very likely have 
been a thinl copy 

In this version, Telfer, after the loosing of his nolt 
and the ranshakhng of his house, runs eight miles to 
Branxholm, to seek aid of Buccleugh, who refers him 
to Martin Elliot, to whom, and not to himself, Buc- 
cleugh affirms, Telfer has paid blackmail. Telfer, as in 
the other version, runs up the water-gate to Coultart 
Cleugh, and invokes the help of Jock Grieve, who sets 
him on a bonny black to take the fray to Catlock Hill, 
as in the other version again. Catlock Hill Mr R. B. 
Armstrong considers to be probably Cathe Hill, marked 
in Blaeu's map as near Braidlie. It was occupied by 
an Elliot in 1541. At Catlock Hill Martin's Hab sets 
Telfer on a bonny black to take the fray to Pricken- 
haugh, a place which, Mr Armstrong observes, is put in 
Blaeu's map near Larriston Auld Martin Elliot is at 
Prickenhaugh, and he orders Simmy, his son, to be sum- 
moned, and the water-side to be warned (including the 
Currers and Willie o Gorrenberry, who m the other ver- 
sion, st. 27, are warned as owing fealty to Scott ; but 
an Archibald Eliot is described as " in Gorrenberne " in 
1541,* and Will Elliot of Gorrombye was concerned 
in the rescue of Kinmont Willie in 1596, Sim Elliot 
takes the lead in the pursuit of the marauders which 
Willie Scott has in the other version, and like him is 
killed Martin Elliot of Braidley had among his sons, 
in 1580, a Sym, an Arche, and a Hob,* and was, dur- 
ing a portion of the second half of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, says Mr Armstrong, perhaps the most important 
person of his name.f This Martin Elliot would fit very 
well into our ballad, but that he should be described as 
of Prickenhaugh, not of Braidley, raises a difficulty. 

R. H Stodart, Scottish Anne, 1881 , II, 277, 276. What 
is there said of Elliot of Braidley was mostly communicated 
by Mr. R. B Armstrong 

Braidley, at the junction of the Braidley burn with the 
Hermitage water, is well placed for our purposes ; 
Prickenhaugh, down by the Liddel water, seems rather 

5, 582. See more as to Dodhead in The Saturday 
Review, May 20, 1898, p. 543. 


1 It fell about the Martinmas, 

When steads were fed wi corn and hay, 
The Captain of Bewcastle said to his lads, 
We '11 into Tiviotdale and seek a prey. 

2 The first ae guide that they met with 

Was high up in Hardhaugh swire, 

The second guide that they met with 

Was laigh down in Borthick water. 

3 * What tidings, what tidings, my bonny guide ? ' 

* Nae tidings, nae tidings I hae to thee ; 
But if ye '11 gae to the Fair Dodhead 

Mony a cow's calf I '11 let ye see.' 

4 When they came to the Fair Dodhead, 

Right hastily they clam the peel, 
They loosd the nolt out, ane and a', 
And ranshakled the house right weeL 

5 Now Jamie's heart it was right sair, 

The tear ay rowing in his eye ; 
He pled wi the Captain to hae his gear, 
Or else revenged he would be. 

6 Bat the Captain turnd himsel about, 

Said, Man, there 's naething in thy house 
But an auld sword without a scabbard, 
That scarcely now would fell a mouse. 

7 The moon was up and the sun was down, 

'T was the gryming of a new-f a'n snaw ; 
Jamie Telfer has run eight miles barefoot 
Between Dodhead and Branxholm Ha. 

8 And when he came to Branxholm Ha 

He shouted loud and cry'd well he, 
Till up bespake then auld Buccleugh, 

* Whae 's this that brings the fray to me ? ' 

t Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, 
1880-81, p 93. At several places above I have used a 
letter from Mr. Armstrong to Mr. Macmath. 



9 It 's I, Jamie Teller i the Fair Dodhead, 

And a harried man I think I be ; 
There 's naething left i the Fair Dodhead 
But only wife and children three.' 

10 ' Gae seek your succour frae Martin Elliot, 

For succour ye 's get nane frae me ; 
Gae seek your succour where ye paid black- 
For, man, ye never paid money to me/ 

11 Jamie he 's tnrnd him round about, 

And ay the tear blinded his eye : 

* I 'se never pay mail to Scott again, 

Nor the Fair Dodhead 1 11 ever see.' 

12 Now Jamie is up the water-gate, 

Een as fast as he can drie, 
Till he came to the Coultart Cleugh, 
And there he shouted and cry'd weel he. 

13 Then up bespake him auld Jock Grieve, 

Whae 's this that bring[s] the fray to me ? ' 
' It 's I, Jamie Telf er i the Fair Dodhead, 
And a harried man I think I be. 

14 ' There 's naething left i the Fair Dodliead 

But only wife and children three, 

And sax poor calves stand i the sta, 

A' routing loud for their minnie.' 

15 * Alack, wae 's me ! ' co auld Jock Grieve, 

' Alack, alack, and wae is me ! 
For ye was married t' the auld sister, 
And 1 1 1 the younges[t] o the three.' 

16 Then he 's taen out a bonny black, 

It was weel fed wi corn and hay, 
And set Jamie Telfer on his back, 
To the Catlock hill to take the fray. 

17 When he came to the Catlock hill, 

He shouted loud and cry'd weel he ; 

* Whae 's that, whae 's tbat ? ' co Martin's Hab, 

' Whae 's this that brings the fray to me ? ' 

18 ' It 's I, Jamie Telfer i the Fair Dodhead, 

And a harried man I think I be ; 
There 's neathing left i the Fair Dodhead 
But only wife and children three.' 

19 ' Alack, wae 's me ! ' co Martin's Hab, 

* Alack, awae, my heart is sair ! 

I never came bye the Fair Dodhead 
That ever I faund thy basket bare.' 

20 Then he 's taen out a bonny black, 

It was weel fed wi corn and hay, 
And set Jamie Telfer on his back 

To the Pricken haugh to take the fray. 

21 When he came to the Pricken haugh, 

He shouted loud and cry'd weel he ; 
Up then bespake auld Martin Elliot, 

4 Whae 's this that brings the fray to me ? ' 

22 < It 's I, Jamie Telfer i the Fair Dodhead, 

And a harried man I think I be ; 
There 's naething left i the Fair Dodhead 
But only wife and children three/ 

23 ' Ever alack ! ' can Martin say 

' And ay my heart is sair for thee ! 
But fy, gar ca on Simmy my son, 
And see that he come hastily. 

24 * Fy, gar warn the water-side, 

Gar warn it soon and hastily ; 
Them that winna ride for Telfer's kye, 
Let them never look i the face o me. 

25 * Gar warn the water, braid and wide, 

And warn the Currers i tbe shaw ; 
When ye come in at the Hermitage slack, 
Warn doughty Willie o Gorrenberry.' 

26 The gear was driven the Frostily up, 

From the Frostily into the plain ; 
When Simmie looked him afore, 
He saw the kye right fast driving. 

27 'Whae drives the kye,' then Simmy can 


4 To make an outspeckle o me ? ' 
' It 's I, the Captain o Bewcastle, Simmy, 
I winna lain my name frae thee.' 

28 '0 will ye let the gear gae back? 

Or will ye do ony thing for me ? ' 
' I winna let the gear gae back, 
Nor naething, Simmy, I '11 do for the[e]. 

29 * But I '11 drive Jamie Tetter's kye 

In spite o Jamie Telfer's teeth and thee ; ' 
* Then by my sooth,' can Simmy say, 
' I '11 ware my dame's calfskin on thee. 



30 * Fa on them, lads ! ' can Simmy say, 

4 Fy, fa on them cruelly ! 
For or they win to the Bitter ford 
Mony toom saddle there shall be/ 

31 But Simmy was striken oer the head, 

And thro the napskape it is gane, 
And Moscrop made a dolefull rage 
When Simmy on the ground lay slain. 

32 ' Fy, lay on them ! ' co Martin Elliot, 

* Fy, lay on them cruelly ! 
For ere they win to the Kershop ford 
Mony toom saddle there shall be/ 

33 John o Biggam he was slain, 

And John o Barlow, as I heard say, 
And fifteen o the Captain's men 

Lay bleeding on the ground that day. 

34 The Captain was shot through the head, 

And also through the left ba-stane ; 
Tho he had livd this hundred years, 
He 'd neer been loed by woman again. 

35 The word is gane unto his bride, 

Een in the bower where she lay, 
That her good lord was in 's enemy's land 
Since into Tiviotdale he led the way. 

36 * I loord a had a winding sheed 

And helpd to put it oer his head, 
Or he 'd been taen in 's enemy's lands, 
Since he oer Liddle his men did lead.' 

37 There was a man in our company, 

And his name was Willie WudSspurs : 
' There is a house in the Stanegarside, 
If any man will ride with us.' 

38 When they came to the Stanegarside, 

They bangd wi trees and brake the door, 
They loosd the kye out, ane and a', 
And set them furth our lads before. 

39 There was an auld wif ayont the fire, 

A wee bit o the Captain's kin : 
' Whae loo[s]es out the Captain's kye, 

And sae mony o the Captain's men wi[t]hin ? ' 

40 I, Willie Wudespurs, let out the kye, 

I winna lain my name frae thee, 
And I '11 loose out the Captain's kye 
In spite o the Captain's teeth and thee.' 

41 Now on they came to the Fair Dodhead, 

They were a welcome sight to see, 
And instead of his ain ten milk-kye 
Jamie Telf er 's gotten thirty and three. 

16*. feel fed : cf. 20 s . 
196. Lord Maxwell's Last Goodnight. 

P. 34 b, 525 a. 
Glenriddell MS. 
of a copyist 

B. The ballad has no title in the 
The table of contents was the work 

196. The Fire of Frendraught. 

P. 39 b. Thirteen stanzas of C are given, in the 
course of an article on The Burning of tbe House of 
Frendraucht, in the Aberdeen Magazine, 1832, II, 561. 
P. 44. A a. Collation with Sharpe's MS. and with 
another copy of the same pieces in " North Country 
Ballads," Miscellanea Curiosa, Abbotsford Library. 
4 1 . Well, turn. 12 6 . were. 

15 4 . Let Rothiemay may ly, may ly. But Rothic- 
may lie, written under, probably as an emendation 
by Sharpe (not in Scott). 

16*. Turn in Scott, an easy misreading o/Twin. 
26 l . Ahon. With a few slight differences of spell- 

we in 9 a is a misprint for he. 
IV, 522 a. The Satyr begins : 

world of woes, O greif of griefs, to see 

This damned den wher sure brave sp'rits did dye. 

197. James Grant. 

These verses occur in a manuscript collection of C. 
K. Sharpe's (" second collection " ), with slight verbal 
differences. They are written in long lines not divided 
into stanzas. Sir W. Scott remarks, Sharpe's Ballad 
Book, 1880, p. 145, " I conceive Baliindalloch, being 
admitted by Grant, set upon him, and that there should 
be asterisks between the fourth line [the second stanza] 
and those which follow." 

1 1 . Away, away now, James the Grant. 

1 2 . You '11. 1. For Ballendalloch is at your gate. 
2M. Badendalloch. 2 2 . Nor I. 

2 s . Set up my gat both. 2 4 . And let 
8 1 . James the. S 4 . no get so. 
4'. he get but one mile in the highland hill. 
4*. defy the. 

198. Bonny John Seton. 

P. 52. A. Found in a MS. of Charles Kirkpatrick 
Sharpe, and in "North Country Ballads," Miscellanea 



Curios*, Abbotsford Library (another copy of the same 
pieces), with the following variations. 
Sharpe. 1*. The Southeron lords to. 

2 1 . And bonny : Pitmedden, and always. 2 2 . bald. 

2*. And the. 3*. Sat on. 5 2 . Cried, Brave soldiers. 

5 6 . my steed back. 5 e . But let me never see thee. 

6>. And his. 

7*. That dang Pitmedden's middle in three. 

8M. rade. 

8*. But bonny John Seton of Pitmedden. 

9 l . Then up it came a. 9*. from Drimmorow. 

9*. Says, There thou lies. 9 4 . ride thee thorow. 

10 1 . Craigyvar (always) : man. 10 2 . your fiddle. 

10. land. 12 1 . They 've taken. 14*. ring. 

15 1 . For cannons roars : summer's. 

15 s . Like thunder. 15 4 . cannons fair. 
Scott (also). 3 1 . lands. 

None of the readings in Aytoun given in the notes at 
p. 53 were derived from Sharpest copy except 
A 8 s , and all of them may now be dropped. 

199. The Bonnie House o Airlie. 

P. 56. In a small MS. volume with the title " Songs " 
on the cover, entirely in Sharpens handwriting. A a 
is found at p. 24 (with some variations, undoubtedly 
arbitrary) prefaced with these words : * This song [re- 
ferring to a copy presently to be given], like most 
others, would suffer amendment : here follows a copy 
somewhat improved. I have availed myself of a frag- 
ment in a former page of this work, and introduced a 
stanza [9] marked *, picked up in Perthshire. 1 ' Had 
A a been known to be an " improved " copy, it would 
not have been made so prominent. 

The fragment (of slight value) was " from the reci- 
tation of Miss Oliphant of Cask, now Mrs Nairn" 
(afterwards Lady Nairne). It is (p. 21) disregarding 
things misunderstood or avowedly added : 

4 Come down, come down, my lady Ogilvie, 
Come down, and tell us your dower : ' 

* It 's east and west yon wan water side, 

And it 'a down by the banks of the Airly. 

'Had my lord Ogilvie been at hame, 

As he was wi King Charlie, 
There durst nae a Campbel in a' Argyle 

Avowd to the plundering o Airly/ 

* Come down, come down, ye lady fair, 

Come down, and kiss me fairly : ' 
1 1 wunna come down, ye fause Argyle, 
If ye sudna leave a standing stane in Airly. 

The unimproved copy, p. 22, is as follows. 

1 It fell on a day, and a bonny summer day, 

When corn grew green and yellow, 
That there fell out a great dispute 
Between Argyll and Airly. 

2 Argyll has raisd an hundred men, 
An hundred men, and so many, 
And he is away by the back of Dunkeld 
For to plunder the bonny house of Airly. 

8 Lady Margaret looks oer her bower-window, 

And O but she looks weary 1 
And there she spied the great Argyll, 
Coming to plunder the bonny house of Airly. 

4 < Come down, come down, Lady Margret,' he said, 

' Come down, and kiss me fairly : ' 
< O I will not kiss the great Argyll, 
If he should not leave a standing stone in Airly/ 

5 He hath taken her by the left shoulder, 

Says, Lady, where lyes thy dowry ? 
4 It 's up and it 's down by the bonny bank-side, 
Amongst the planting of Airly.' 

6 They have sought it up, they have sought it down, 

They have sought it both late and early, 
And they have found it in the bonny plumb-tree 
That shines on the bowling-green of Airly. 

7 He hath taken her by the middle so small, 

And O but she lookd weary ! 
He hath laid her down by the bonny burn-side 
Till he hath plunderd the bonny house of Airly. 

8 * If my good lord were at home this night, 

As he is with Prince Charly, 
Nouther you nor no Scottish lord 
Durst have set a -foot on the bowling-green of 

9 * Ten bonny sons I have born unto him, 

And the eleventh neer saw his daddy ; 
Although I had an hundred more, 
I would give them all to Prince Charly.' 

58 c. This is one of the pieces contained in " The 
Old Lady's Collection," No 1. The differences from 
Skene (save spelling) are as follows : 

3 1 . ore castell-waa. 3 s . an his three bunded men. 
4 1 *, Come doun the stare, Lady Airly, he says, 

an kiss me fairly. 

4*. Altho ye live no. 5 s . An tell fare layes yer. 
7* An he leed. 10 2 (7). his. 10 (7). An tho. 
10* (7*). I wad gie them a*. 

200. The Gypsy Laddie. 

P. 66. B a. A copy of this version in C. K. Sharpe's 
papers, " written from recitation in Nithisdale, Novem- 
ber, 1814," shows that improvements had been intro- 
duced by two hands, one of them Sharpe's, neither of 
them the writer's. The changes are of no radical im- 
portance ; simply of the familiar kind which almost 



every editor has, for some reason, felt himself called 
upon to make. It may be thought that they are no 
more worth indicating than they were worth making, 
but it has been an object in this book to give things 
exactly as they were delivered. The original readings 
are as follows. 

I I . Cfor Cassilis throughout. I 9 , so. I 4 . Till. 
2 4 . cast. 8 1 . to wanting. S 8 *'. give. 

S 4 . rings of her fingers. 4 1 * 3 . you. 4 s . hilt of. 
4 4 , 9 4 , 16*. no more. 6*< 8 . Jackie. 
7 8 , 8 8 . farmer's barn. 8 8 , 11*. most. 8 4 . crae. 
9i. a . O wanting. 10*, ll l , 14. on water. 

II I . Many a time have. 17 4 . mother bore me. 
18*. And wanting. 


Communicated to the Journal of The Gypsy Society, II, 
85, by Mr John Sampson, from the dictation of Lias Robin- 
son, a Gypsy. A translation into Gypsy, by Robinson and 
his brothers, is given at p. 84 of the same. 

1 A band of gypsies, all in a road, 

All so black and brawny, oh 
Away come a lady all dressed in silk, 
To follow the roving gypsies, oh 
The gypsies, oh 1 
The gypsies, oh ! 
To follow the roving gypsies, oh ! 

2 Her husband came home at ten o'clock of night, 

And asked for his lady fair ; 
The servant informed him very soon 
She had gone with the roving gypsies. 

3 ' Saddle to me my bonny gray mare, 

Saddle to me my pony ; 
I will go where the green grass grow, 
To find out the roving gypsies. 

4 ( Last night she slept in a fair feather-bed, 

And blankets by bonins ; 
Tonight she sleeps in a cold shed-barn, 
Through following the roving gypsies. 

5 'Why did you leave your houses and your 


Why did you leave your babies? 
Why did you leave your decent married man, 
To follow the roving gypsies ? ' 

6 ' What cares I for my houses and my lands ? 

What cares I for my babies ? 
What cares I for my decent married man ? 
I will go with the roving gypsies/ 

1*. Fan and bonny. 

From a small MS. volume, " Songs," entirely in 
C. K. Sharpe's handwriting, p. 82 (corresponding to 
B 11, D 6,1! 7.) 

Yestreen I rade yon wan water, 

Wi my gude lord before me ; 
The day 1 maun pit down my bonnie fit and wade, 

What ever may come oer me. 

201. Bessy Bell and Mary Gray. 

P. 76 a, 4th paragraph, 1st line. The date 1666 is 
corrected to 1645 by Cant in his Errata. 

77. In the small MS. volume, " Songs/' entirely 
in C. K. Sharpe's handwriting, p. 26, a 3 is given 
" from the Catalogue of the Edinburgh Exhibition of 
Pictures, 1810 " as here, excepting that in the second 
line the reading is (absurdly) " royal kin." 

203. The Baron of Braokley. 

P. 79. Fragment from Findlay MSS, I, 209, derived 
from Mrs McKenzie, Advie, Moray shire. 

1 O are ye sleepin, baul B[r]achlie, or are ye at 

For the caterans are at ye, an a* your kye 's taen.* 


'Ye '11 fling your rocks, lasses, we'll fecht them 
our lane. 

3 ' We '11 fecht them an fleg them, an gar them rin 

We '11 stand them in battle, as gin we were men. 

4 < There 's four-an-twenty milk-white kine in Glen* 

tanner free, 
In the parks o Glentanner sae fain 's I wad bet ' 

5 He f s called on his lady to give him his gun : 

* I 'm gaun oot, Katie, but I '11 never come home.' 

6 She 's a 1 her gates wide open flung, an she 'a wel- 

comed them in, 
An she sleeps wi the villain that slew her baron. 

I 1 . Baulbachlie. 5 fl , home originally; altered to in. 
The stanzas have been arranged by the light of A. 

87. D, as it stands in " The Old Lady's Collec- 
tion," No 25, < The Barren of Breachell.' 

1 * Barren of Breachell, are ye withen ? 

The sharp sourd is att yer gate, Breachell, will 
gar yer blod spine.' 

2 * The 'r at yer gate, BricheU, the 'r nether men 

nor lads, 
Bat silly heard widifaus, we belted plaids. 



8 ' O if I had a man,' she says, 'as it louks I haa 

He widne sit in the house an see my kay tean. 

4 ' Bat, lasses, tak doun yer rokes, an we will defend/ 

5 4 O kiss me, d[ea]r Peggey, an gee me doun my 

I may well gaa out, bat I ill never come in.' 

6 Out spak his brother, says, Gee me your hand, 
I [ill] fight in your caus as lang as I may stan. 

7 Fan the Ban-on of Brechell came to the closs, 
A braver barron never read upon horse. 

* I think the silly heard widdefus are groun tighten 

9 First they killed an, and sayn they killed tua, 
An the Barron of Brichell is dead an awa. 

10 They killed Sandy Gordon, Sandy Gordon of the 


The miller an his three sons, that lived att Glen- 

11 First they killed ane, an sayn they killed tua, 
An the Barron of Brichell is dead an awaa. 

12 Up came Crigevar an a* his tighten men : 

( Had I come an houre sinner, he sudna ben slain.' 

18 For first they killed an, an sayn they killed tua, 
An the Barron of Breachell is dead an awa 

14 ' O came ye by Brechell, lads? was ye in ther? 
Saw ye Peggie Doun, raving her hear? ' 

16 ' We came by Breache[l], lads, we was in ther ; 
We saa Peggie Doun, curling her hear. 

16 ' She ate we them, drank we them, bad them come 

To her haas an her bours that had slain her barron/ 

17 * Come in, gentelmen, ate an drink we me , 

Tho ye have slain my barron, I ha na ill well att 
thee. 1 

18 < O was ye att Glenmuck, lads? was ye in ther? 
Saa ye Catren Gordon, raving her hear ? ' 

19 ' We was att Gleanmuck, lads, we was in ther, 
We saa Catren Gordon, vavi[n]g her hear. 

20 * We the tear in her eay, 

Seven beams att her foot, the eaght on her knee. 

21 They killed Peater Gordon, Peater Gordon of the 


The miller an his three sons, that lives att Glen- 

22 First they killed an, an sayn they killed twa, 
An the Barron of Breachell is dead an awaa. 

208. Lord Derwentwater. 

P. 116 b. Add at the end of the first paragraph : 
Robert Patten, The History of the Rebellion in the 
Year 1715, 4th ed , 1745, p. 47. 

123. From "The Old Lady's Collection," second 
part, p. 6. 


1 The king has written a brod letter, 

An sealled it our with gould, 
An sent it to Lord Darnwater, 
To read it if he could. 

2 Whan Lord Darnwater saa the letter, 

A light laughter lough he ; 
Bat or he read it to an end 

The tear blinded his eye, 
An sighan said him good Lord Darnwater, 

I am near the day to dei. 

3 Out spak his lady, 

In child-bed wher she lay ; 
'My d[ea]r Lord Darnweter, what is to be- 

com of me, 
An my young f ameiy ? ' 

4 ' I will leave my young f amely 

As well as I cane ; 
For I will leave to my lady 

The third part of my land, 
An I will live to my e[l]dest son, 

The tua part of my land. 

5 ' An I will live to my eldest daught[er] 

Five thousand pound of gold, 
An I will live to my second daughter 
Three thousand pound of gold. 

6 ' Ye saddel to me my littel gray horse, 

That I had wont to ried ; 

7 The first stape Lord Darnwater staped, 

He stumbled on a ston ; 
Said Lord Darnwater, 

I f eer I ill never come home. 



8 When he came to fair London city, 

An near unt[o] the toun, 
< A trater ! a trater ! ' said they, 
* A trator we see ! ' 

9 ' A trater ? ' said good Lord Darnwater, 

1 A trator I nier could be, 
Unless it was bringen three hundred men 
To fight for young Jamie.' 

10 But when he came to Tour Hill 

Befor him came a bold man, 

With a broad aix in his hand. 

* Hear is five ginies of gold an my green velvet 

For to be your fee. 1 

12 'Yenobelsall, 

Come hear to see me die, 
An ye peopell of fair Sco[t]land, 
Be kind to my family.' 

13 Lord Darnuater was dumed to die, to die, 

Good Lord Darnwater was dumed to die. 

2 6 . sigh an. 2*. am doubtful. 

4 4 , 5 4 , 9'. 3. 4*. will live twice. 4 e , 5'. 2. 

5 a , 11 s . 6. 7, 9 1 . L. D. 13 2 . Daruan Water. 

314. The Braes o Yarrow. 

P. 160 ff., 522 ff. 


Findlay's MSB, 1, 181 ; The Dowie Dens o Yarrow, " from 
Banff shire, through James Milne, Arbroath." 

1 There lived a lady in the South, 

Ye would scarcely find her marrow ; 
She was courted by nine gentlemen 
An a ploughman-lad frae Yarrow. 

2 Ae nicht the nine sat drinkin wine 

To the lass wha had nae marrow, 
When the ploughman swore, tho they were 

a score 
He wad f echt them a' in Yarrow. 

3 It 's he 's gane ower yon high, high hill, 

And doon yon glen sae narrow, 

An there he saw nine armtid men, 
To fecht wi him in Yarrow. 

4 ' There *s nine o you an I 'm but ane, 

An that 's an unequal marrow, 
But wi this gude blade and powerf u arm 
I '11 lay you low on Yarrow/ 

5 It 's three he slew, and three withdrew, 

And three lay dead on Yarrow, 

But in behind cam her brother John, 

An pierced his body thorough. 

6 ' Gae hame, gae hame, you fause young man, 

An tell your sister sorrow, 
That her true-love John lies dead and gone 
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.' 

7 ' father dear, I 've dreamed a dream, 

I 'm feared it will prove sorrow ; 
I dreamed I was puin the heather-bells 

On the bonny braes o Yarrow.' 

8 ' O daughter dear, your dream is read, 

I 'm feared it will prove sorrow ; 
Your true-love John lies dead and gone 
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.' 

9 It 's she 's gane ower yon high, high hill, 

An doon yon glen sae narrow, 
An there she saw her true-love John 
Lyin cauld an dead on Yarrow. 

10 She washed his face an combed his hair, 

Wi muckle grief an sorrow, 
She rowed him i the plaid she wore, 
In the dowie dens o Yarrow. 

11 Her hair it was three quarters lang, 

The colour being yellow ; 
She tied it round his middle sma, 
An carried him hame frae Yarrow. 

12 * daughter dear, I pray forbear, 

I '11 wed you to another marrow ; 
I '11 wed you to some fitter match 
Than the lad that died on Yarrow/ 

13 ' O father dear, you hae seven sons, 

Should you wed them a' to-morrow,, 
A fairer flower never grew in June 
Than the lad that died on Yarrow.' 



14 This lady, being six months with child 

To the ploughman lad of Yarrow, 
She fell into her father's arms 
An died wi grief on Yarrow. 

5 1 . slew should of course be wounded, or hurt, 
as in A 9 1 , B 9 1 , D 7 1 , B 8 1 , I 7 1 , K 7 1 , 
Q 6 l a . 

215. Bare Willie drowned in Yarrow, or, 
The Water o Gamrie. 

P. 180. D stands as follows in "The Old Lady's 
Collection," No 10, 'The Water of Gamry.' 

1 * Willie is fair, an Wille 's rair, 

An Wille 's wondres bonny, 
An Wille has promised to marey me, 
Gin ever he marred ony.' 

2 ' Ye *s gett Jeamie, or ye 's gett Jonny, 

Or ye 's gett bonny Piter ; 
Ye 's gett the walle of a* my sins, 
Bat live to me Wille the writter.' 

8 * I winne ha Jamie, I winne ha Jonny, 

Nor will I ha bonny Peter ; 
I winne ha ony of yer sins, 
In I gett na Willie the writter.' 

4 Ther was three score an ten brisk young men 

Was boun to brid-stell we him. 

5 ' Ride on, ride on, my merry men a', 

I forget some thing behine me ; 
I [ha] forgetten my raider's blissing, 
To boun to bridstell we me.' 

6 ( God's blissing an mine gae we ye, my son Willie, 

A' the hlissings of God ga we ye ; 
For y 'er na an hour but bare ninten, 
Fan y 'er gain to meet yer Meggey.' 

7 They road on, an ferder on, 

Till they came to the water of Gamry ; 
An they all wen safe throu, 
Unless it was Suet Willie. 

8 For the first an step att Willie's hors steped, 

He steped to the bridel ; 
The nixt an step att Wellie's hors steped, 
Toom grue Wille's sadle. 

9 They rod on, an f order on, 

Till they came to the kirk of Gamry, 


* A rounin, a rouning,' she says, 

4 An fat means a' this rouning? ' 

11 Out spak the bonny bried, 

Just att the lurk of Gamrie ; 

* Far is the man that was to gee me his ban 

This day att the kirk of Gamry? ' 

12 Out spak his breder John, 

An O bat he was sorry ! 
' It fears me sair, my bonny brid, 
He slipes our sune in Gaamry.' 

13 The ribbons they wer on her hare, 

They wer thik an mony ; 
She rive them a', late them doun faa, 
An she is on to the water of Gamry. 

14 She sought it up, she sought it doun, 

She sought it braid an narrow, 
An the depest pot in a' Gamry, 
Ther she got Suit Willie. 

15 She has kissed his comly mouth, 

As she had don befor, O : 
' Baith our mid era sail be alike sory, 
For we 's baith slep soun in Gamry/ 

216. The Mother's Malison, or, Clyde's 

P. 187. A is now given as it stands in "The Old 
Lady's Collection," ' Glide's Water,' No 11. It will be 
observed that 19, 20 repeat No 215, D, 13, 14 (14, 15, 
of the copy just given). 

1 * Ye gie corn to my hors, 

An meatt to my man, 
For I will gai to my true-love's gates 
This night, gin I can wine.' 

2 ' O stay att home, my son Willie, 

This a bare night we me ; 

The best bed in a' my house 

Sail be well made to the.' 

8 ' I care na for your beds, mider, 

I care na a pin ; 
For I ill gae to my love's gates 
This night, gin I can wine; 

4 ' O stay, my son Willie, 

This night we me ; 
The best hen in a' mey roast 
Sail be well made ready for the. 9 



ft * I care na for your beans, midder, 

I care na a pin ; 
For I ull gae to my love's gates 
This night, gin I can wine. 1 

6 ' Gin ye winne stay, my son Willie, 

This a bare night we me, 
Gin C laid' B water be dip an fue of flud, 
My malicen droun ye in.' 

7 He road up yon high hill, 

An doun yon doue den ; 
The roring of Clid's water 
Wod ha Hied ten thousand men. 

8 ' O spair me, Claid's water, 

Spare me as I gaa ! 
Make me yer wrak as I come back, 
Bat spare me as I gaa I ' 

9 He raid in, an f order in, 

Till he came to the chin ; 

An he raid in, an f order in, 

Till he came to dray Ian. 

10 An fan he came to his love's gates 

He tirled att the pin : 
* Open yer gates, May Meggie, 

Open yer gates to me, 
For my bets is fue of Claid's water, 

An the rain rins on a* my chine.' 

11 * I ha ne loves therout,' she says, 

* I haa ne love theren ; 

My true-love is in my arms tua, 
An nean will I latt in.' 

12 * Open yer gates, Meggie, 

This night to me, 
For Glide's water is full of flood, 

An my mider's malhson will droun me in/ 

13 ' An of my chambers is full of corn,' she says, 

* Anether is full of hay, 
The other is full of gentelmen, 

An they winne remove till day.' 

14 Out waked her May Meggie, 

Out of her drussie dream : 
' I dreamed a dream nou san the streen, 

God read a' dreams to gued ! 
That my true-love Willie 

Was etaning att my bed-feet.' 

15 <Nou lay still, my a dather, 

An keep my back fraa the call ; 
It 's na the space of haf an hour 

Sayn he gade fra your hall.' 
VOL. v. 33 

16 'Hey, Willie ! an hou, Willie ! 

An Willie, winne ye turn agen? ' 
But ay the louder that she Grayed 
He read agenst the wind. 

17 He raid up yon high hill, 

An doun yon doue den, 
An the roring that was in Clid's water 
Wad ha fleed ten thousand men. 

18 He raid in 

Tell he came to the chine, 
An he raid forder in, 
Bat never mare came out agen. 

19 She sought him up, she sought him doun, 

She sought him braid an narrou ; 
In the depest pot in a' Claid's water, 
Ther she gat Suit Willie. 

20 She has kissed his comly mouth, 

As she had den afore : 
( Baith our midders sail be alike sorry, 
For we 's bath slipe soun in Glide's water.' 

21 Ther was na mare seen of that gued lord 

Bat his hat frae bis head ; 
There was na mare seen of that gued lady 
Bat her keem an her sneed. 

22 Ther mideers went up an doun the water, 

Saying, Glayd's water din us wrong 1 

10*. on a. 

18 4 . tber follows agen, intended perhaps as a begin- 
ning of 21. 

217. The Broom of Cowdenknows. 

P. 195. D b. Macmath MS., p. 105; from the 
recitation of Mary Gochrane (Mrs Garmory), Abbey- 
yard, Grossmichael, August 12, 1893. 

1 Bonny May to the ewe-buchts is gane, 

To milk her daddie's yowes, 
And aye as she sang, her bonny voice it rang 
Outocr the taps o the knowes, knowes, 
Outoer the taps o the knowes. 

A troop o noble gentlemen 
Came riding merrily by. 

5 He took her by the middle sae ema, 

And by the green gown sleeve, 
And he.'s laid her down on the dewy, dewy ground, 
And he 's asked no man's leave. 



9 He 's mounted on his milk-white steed, 

And he 's rode after his men, 
And all that his merry men said to him 
Was, Dear master ye 've tarried long. 

10 ' I have ridden east and I have ridden west, 

And I 've ridden among the knowes, 
But the bonniest lass that eer I saw 
Was milking her daddie's yowes.' 

11 She 's taen the milk-pail on her head, 

And she 's gane singing hame, 
And all that her father said to her 
Was, Dear daughter, ye 've tarried long. 

Id ' O there cam a tod amang my yowes, 

An a waefu tod was he ; 
Afore he had taen my wee yowe-lamb, 
1 wad rather he had taen ither three.' 

15 It happened on a day, and a bonny summer day, 

As she was ca'in in her father's kye, 
The same troop o noble gentlemen 
Came riding merrily by. 

16 One of them calls out 

Lassie, have ye got a man? 
She turned her head right saucy about, 
Saying, I 've got ane at hame. 

17 ' Hold your tongue, my bonny lass, 

How loud 1 hear ye lee ! 
Do you no remember the caul mirky nicht 
When ye were in the yowe-buchts wi me ? ' 

18 He 's ordered one of his merry men 

To hcht and set her on behind him, 
Saying, Your father may ca in his kye when he 

For they '11 neer be ca'ed in by thee. 

19 * For I am the laird o the Ochiltree walls, 

I have fifty ploughs and three, 
And I have got the bonniest lass 
In a' the North Countrie.' 

219. The Gardener. 

P. 212. Rev. S. Baring- Gould has pointed me to a 
printed copy of this ballad, considerably corrupted, to 
be sure, but also considerably older than the traditional 
versions. It is blended at the beginning with a " Thyme " 
song, which itself is apt to be mixed up with ' I sowed 
the seeds of love.' The second stanza is from the 
" Thyme " song ; the third is a traditional variation of a 
stanza in '1 sowed the seeds of love.' (See the piece 
which follows this.) The ballad begins with the fourth 

stanza, and the fifth is corrupted by being transferred 
from the gardener to the maid. Mr Baring-Gould has 
lately taken down copies of the " Thyme " song in the 
west of England. See one in Songs and Ballads of 
the West, No 7, and the note thereto in the preface to 
Part IV of that work, p. xv ; also Campbell's Albyn's 
Anthology, I, 40, Bruce and Stokoe, Northumbrian 
Minstrelsy, p. 90, and Chappell's Popular Music, p. 
521 f. Rev. S. Baring- Gould has given me two copies, 
one from recitation, the other from u a broadside pub- 
lished by Bebbington, Manchester, Brit. Mus., 1876. d., 
A Collection of Songs and Broadsides, I, 264." 

Five Excellent New Songs Edinburgh Printed and 
gold by William Forrest, at the head of the Cowgate, 1766. 
British Museum, 11621. b. 6 (8). 

1 The wakeing all the winter night, 

And the tippling at the wine, 
And the courting of a bonny lass, 
Will break this heart of mine. 
Brave sailing here, my dear, 

And better sailing there, 
Brave sailing in my love's arms, 
O give I were there ! 

2 I had a bed of thyme, 

And it flourishd night and day, 
There came by a squire's son 
That stole my heart away. 
Brave sailing, etc. 

3 Then up comes the gardener- lad, 

And he gave me profers free, 
He gave to me the jully-flowers, 
To clothe my gay bodie. 

4 The gardener stood in his garden, 

And the prim-rose in his hand, 
And there he spi'd his own true love, 
As tight *s a willy wand. 

5 * If he'll be a lover true,' she said, 

' A lover true indeed, 
And buy all the flowers of my garden, 
I '11 shape to thee a weed.' 
Brave sailing, etc. 

6 ' The prim-rose shall be on thy head, 

And the red rose on thy breast, 
And the white-rose shall be for a smock, 
To cover thy body next. 
Brave sailing, etc. 

7 < Thy glove shall be the jully-flower, 

Comes lockren to thy hand, 



8 ' Thy stockings shall he of the thyme, 

Fair maid, it is a pleasant view ; 
Put on, fair maid, whenever you please, 
And your shoes shall be of the rue.' 
Brave sailing here, my dear, 

And better sailing there, 
And brave sailing in my love's arms, 
O if I were there ! 

9 ' You shape to me, young man,' she says, 

* A weed amongst the flowers, 
But I will shape to you, young man, 
A weed amongst the flowers. 

10 ' The hail-stones shall be on thy head, 

And the snow upon thy breast, 
And the east- wind shall be for a shirt, 
To cover thy body next. 

11 < Thy boots shall be of the tangle, 

That nothing can betide, 
Thy steed shall be of the wan water, 
Loup on, young man, and ride.' 
Brave sailing there, my dear, 

And better sailing here, 
And 't is brave sailing twixt my love's arms, 
O if I were there 1 

Five Excellent New Songs. II. The New Lover's 
Garland. HI. The Young Maid's Answer. 

6 1 should read, If thou 'It . . he said. 

5* should read nearly as in B 8', Among all. 

6*, 10 4 next should be neist. 

7 1 . grove. 7 1 * 8 , 8 1 ' 1 , make a stanza. 

After 8 : The Young Maid's Answer, printed as 

No 8 of the Jive songs. 
9 1 . to be a. 

9- 4 could be easily corrected from A7 6 - 8 , B 1 5 s - 4 . 
II 1 . stangle. 
ll a should read to the effect. That's brought in by 

the tide. 

The piece which follows is little more than a varia- 
tion of ' I sow'd the seeds of love ' (one of " three of 
the most popular songs among the servant-maids of the 
present generation," says Mr Chappell : see a tra- 
ditional version of the song, which was originally com- 
posed by Mrs Habergham towards the end of the seven- 
teenth century, in Popular Music, p. 522 f.). But the 
choosing of a weed for a maid from garden-flowers is 
here, and is not in the song. It will be observed that 
the maid chooses no weed for the gardener, but dies 
of a thorn-prick, a trait which is found in neither the 
song nor the ballad. 

Taken down by Rev. S. Baring-Gould from the sing- 
ing of Joseph Paddon, Holcombe Burnell. Printed, 
with changes, in Baring-Gould and Sheppard's Songs 

and Ballads of the West, No 107, Part IV, p. 50, 1891 
here as sung. 


1 A garden was planted around 

With flowers of every kind, 
I chose of the best to wear in my breast, 
The flowers best pleased my mind. 

2 A gardener standing by 

I asked to choose for me ; 
He chose me the lily, the violet, the pink, 
But I liked none of the three. 

3 A violet I don't like, 

A lily it fades so soon, 
But as for the pink I cared not a flink, 
I said I would stop till June. 

4 ' The lily it shall be thy smock, 

The jonquil shoe thy feet, 
Thy gown shall be of the ten-week stock, 
Thy gloves the violet sweet. 

5 ' The gilly shall deck thy head, 

Thy way with herbs I '11 strew, 
Thy stockings shall be the marigold, 
Thy gloves the violet blue.' 

6 ' I like not the gilly-flower, 

Nor herbs my way to strew, 
Nor stockings of the marigold, 
Nor gloves of violet blue. 

7 < I will not have the ten-week stock, 

Tor jonquils to my shoon, 
But I will have the red, red rose 
That flowereth in Jane.' 

8 ' The rose it doth bear a thorn 

That pricketh to the bone ; ' 
' I little heed what them dost say, 
I will have that or none.' 

9 ' The rose it doth bear a thorn 

That pricketh to the heart ; ' 
1 but I will have the red, red rose, 
For I little heed its smart.' 

10 She stooped to the ground 

To pluck the rose so red, 
The thorn it pierced her to the heart, 
And this fair maid was dead. 

11 A gardener stood at the gate, 

With cypress in his hand, 
And he did say, Let no fair may 
Come into Dead Maid's Land. 

A fragment in Motherwell's MS., obtained from 
Widow Nicol, 'It's braw sailing here,' p. 110, has 
something of both pieces without any suggestion of the 



1 It ' braw sailing here, 

And it ' braw sailing there, 

And it 's braw sailing on the seas 

When wind and tide are fair. 

2 It's braw drinking beer, 

And it 'e braw drinking wine, 
And it 'a braw courting a bonnie lass 
When she is in her prime. 

3 O the gardener sent me word, 

He that pued the roae for me, 
The willow, primrose, the red rose, 
But I denied all three. 

4 The willow 1 11 deny, 

The primrose it buds soon, 
But I '11 chuse for me the red rose. 
And I vow it '11 stand till June. 

5 In June my red rose sprung, 

It was not a rose for me, 
So I '11 pull the top of my red rose, 
And I 11 plant the willow-tree. 

6 For the willow I must wear, 

With sorrows mixed axnang, 
And all the neighbours far and near 
Say I luved a false luve lang. 

2 2 . braw altered to better. 

221. Katharine Jaffray. 

P. 222. B, as it stands in * The Old Lady's Collec- 
tion/' No 17, < Bony Catrain Jaffry.' 

1 Bonny Catrain Jaffrie, 

That proper maid sae fare, 

She has loved yong Lochinwar, 

She made him no compare. 

2 He courted her the live-lang winter night, 

Sa has he the simmer's day ; 
He has courted her sae lang 
Till he sta her heart away. 

8 Bat the lusty lard of Lamerdall 

Came fra the South Countrey, 
An for to ga[i]n this lady's love 
In intred he. 

5 The weding-day it being sett, 

An a' man to it boun, 
She sent for her first fair love, 
Her wedding to come to. 

6 His father an his mother came, 

They came a', but he came no, 
It was a foull play. 

7 Lochenwar an his comrads 

Sat drinken att the wine; 
' Faue on you 1 ' sad his comrads, 
4 Tak yer bride for shame. 

8 * Had she ben mine, as she was yours, 

An den as she has don to you, 
I wad tak her on her bridell-day 
Fra a* her compinay. 

9 < Fra a* her compinay, 

Without any other stay ; 
I wad gee them frogs insted of fish, 
An take ther bride away/ 

10 He got fifty young men, 

They were gallant an gay, 
An fifty madens, 

An left them on a lay. 

1 1 Fan he came in by Callien bank, 

An in by Calline bray, 
He left his company 
Dancing on a lay. 

12 He came to the bridel-house, 

An in entred he ; 

18 * Ther was a young man in this place 

Loyed well a comly may, 
Bat the day she gaes anether man's bride, 
An has plaed him foull play. 

14 ' Had it ben me, as it was him, 

An don as she has dien him tee, 
I wad ha geen them froges insteed of fish, 
An tane ther bride away.' 

15 The Englesh speared gin he wad fight, 

It spak well in his mind ; 

An he has gained her friends' consent, 
An sett the weding-day. 

16 'It was na for fighten I cam hear, 

But to bear gud fileshap gay ; 
Wan glass we yer bridgrom, 
An so I goe my way.* 



17 The glass was filled of gned read wine 

Betuen them tea : 
* Wan word we yer brid, 
An so I goo my waa.' 

18 He was on gued horse back, 

An whipt the bride him we; 
She grat an wrang her hands, 

* An this I dar well say, 
For this day I gade another man's bride, 
An it's beef ouLJ play.' 

20 Bat nou she is Lochenw[ar]'s wife, 

An he gaed them froges insted of fish, 
An tain ther bried away. 

1. him imperfect; might be hir. 5 s . boung. 

225. Q. Collated with a MS. of Charles Kirkpat- 
rick Sharpe's and with another copy of the same pieces 
in " North Country Ballads/' Miscellanea Curiosa, Ab- 
botsford Library. 

Sharpe, p. 13. I 1 . O wanting.' Jaffray. 

I 8 . For she has lovd young L. 

8". Lauderdale 's come. 8*. That pretty. 

4*. He agreed with. 5*. lossing of the. 

6 1 . were you, L. 7 1 . Ye get 

7*. And send through. 7'. Get 150. 7*. be all 

8*. And still : trumpets. 9 s . And sent 

9. Gat full 9*. To be all 10. To be. 

10 s . to obey. 10'. And still : trumpets. 

II 1 . When he went in upon. 12*. who was. 

12 1 . Come never. 18 1 . They '11. 

14*. Askd if he had. 15 1 . ever. 15*. As was. 

15*. Was. 16. I did. 

16*. Was leaping on the hays. 

1 7*. with you, b. 

17*, 18*. bound. 18 s . drank. 19 1 . taken. 

19*, 20*. no. 20 1 . so great. 20*. And so. 

20*. That. 21 1 . take their. 21*. trumpets. 

22 1 . There was. 22 s . Was walking on a hay. 

22'. Gave them the bonny bride by the hand. 

22*. bad them bound. 28 *. pieces nine. 
Scott 15*. array miscopicd away. 

222. Bonny Baby Livington. 

P. 281. ' Bonnie Annie Livieston ' in C. K. Sharpe 'B 
first MS. collection, p. 24, resembles D and B, and has 
as many commonplaces as B, ending with the last three 
stanzas of several versions of ' Lord Thomas and Fair 
Annet ' or of * Lord Lovel,' I. 

1 Bonny Anny Livieston 

Went out to see the play, 
By came the laird of Glenlion, 
And [he 'B] taen hir quite away. 

2 He set hir on a milk-white steed, 

Himself upon a gray, 
He 's teen hir oer the Highland hills, 
And taen hir quite away. 

8 When they came to Glenlion's gate, 

The lighted on the green ; 
There was mony a bonny lad and lass 
To wolcome the lady hame. 

4 They led hir through high towers and bowers, 

And through the buling-green, 
And ay when they spake Erse to hir 
The tears blinded hir een. 

5 Says, The Highlands is no for me, kind sir, 

The Highlands is no for me ; 
If that ye would my favour win, 
Take me unto Dundee. 

6 ' Dundee ! ' he says, * Dundee, lady ! 

Dundee you shall never see ; 
Upon the laird of Glenlion 
Soon wadded shall ye be.' 

7 When bells were rung, and mas was sung, 

And all were bound for bed, 
And bonny Annie Livieston 
By hir bridegroom was laid. 

8 * It 's O gin it were day ! ' she says, 

It 's O gin it were day ! 
O if that it were day,' she says, 
1 Nae langer wad I stay/ 

9 ' Your horse stands in a good stable, 

Eating both corn and hay, 
And you are in Glenlion's arms, 
Why should ye weary for day ? ' 

10 ' Glenlion's arms are good enough, 

But alais 1 the 'r no for me ; 
If that you would my fevonr win, 
Taike me unto Dundee. 

11 * Bat fetch me paper, pen and ink, 

And candle that I may see, 
And I '11 go write a long letter 
To Geordie in Dundee. 

1 2 ' Where will I get a bonny boy, 

That will win hose and shoon, 

That will gang to my ain true-luve, 

And tell him what is done? 1 



13 Then up then spake a bonny hoy, 

Near to Glenlion's kin, 
Says, Many time I hae gane his erand, 
But the lady's I will rin. 

14 O when he came to broken brigs 

He bent his bow and swame, 
And when he came to grass growing 
Set down his feet and ran. 

15 And when he came to Dundee gate 

Lap clean outoer the wa ; 

Before the porter was thereat, 

The boy was in the haa. 

16 'What news? what news, bonny boy? 

What news hes thou to me? ' 
4 No news, no news,' said bonny boy, 
' But a letter unto thee.' 

17 The first three lines he looked on, 

A loud laughter gied he, 
But or he wan to the hinder en 
The tears blinded his eie. 

18 ' Gae saddle to me the black/ he says, 

* Gae saddle to me the broun, 

Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed 

That eer took man to towen.' 

19 He burst the black unto the slack, 

The browen unto the brae, 
But fair fa on the siller-gray 
That carried him ay away t 

20 When he came to Glenlion's yett, 

He tirled at the pin, 
But before that he wan up the stair 
The lady she was gone. 

21 'O I can kiss thy cheeks, Annie, 

O I can kiss thy chin, 
O I can kiss thy clay-cold lips, 
Though there be no breath within. 

22 ' Deal large at my love's buriell 

The short bread and the wine, 
And gin the morn at ten o clock 
Ye may deal as mukle at mine.' 

23 The taen was biried in Mary's kirk, 

The tither in St Mary's quire, 
And out of the taen there grew a birk, 
And the ither a bonny brier. 

24 And ay they grew, and ay they threw, 

Till they did meet aboon, 
And a' that ere the same did see 
Knew they had true lovers been. 

17*. hinderen. 21 1 . thy thy. 

223. Bppie Morrie. 

P. 289. Collated with a MS. of Charles Kirkpatrick 
Sharpe's, and with another copy of the same pieces, 
"North Country Ballads," in Miscellanea Curiosa, 
Abbotsford Library. 
Sharpe, p. 21. I 8 , all. 1. away. 1*. Because. 

2 1 . Out it. 2 a . moonlighty. S 1 ' 2 . Hald. 

8*. That shall be wedded. 5*. He has. 

5 s . it wanting. 5 8 . Says, Marry. 

6W, 7i.a, low, ISM. Hold. 6*. be married. 

7'. dare not avow to marrying. 7 4 . she were. 

8 2 . could not. 8. are away. 9 l . bells was. 

9 2 . all men bound. 10 1 ' 2 , 15 1 - 2 . away from. 

10 8 . I loss. 12. Scallater. IS 1 . Says, Get. 

IS 4 , sure I am : as ye. 14 1 . fall. 

14 3 . you could not. 14 8 . taken. 

14*. kis[s]ed your hand. 15 8 . For there 's. 

15 4 . that 's be wedded to me. 

16 1 . in it came Belbardlane. 

16*. Says, come away home. 1 7*. And get to me. 

17*. came. 18*. and hey the light. 

Written in long lines, without division into stanzas 
Scott Norrie throughout. 2 2 . moonlight. 

16 1 . home wanting. 

225. Bob Roy. 

P. 245. A. This version is No 9 of " The Old Lady's 
Collection, " and was copied by Skene without much 
variation. The following original readings may be 

2 s . Or she. S 1 . serundad. 3 4 . fra each other. 

6 4 . to me has. 7 4 . Him sell beside her. 

8 1 . came by Black. 8 4 . not be. 

10 1 ' 2 . Be content twice only. 

ll a , 12 2 . lady wanting. 12 1 . land. 12*. for his. 

12 8 . An wanting. 12 4 . took them. 

IS 1 , he wanting. IS 8 , pound. 14 1 . Y 'er. 

249. B. In Sharpe's small MS. volume, " Songs," 
p. 42. 

l a . Cam to. 2 1 . It's when. 2*. her to. 5 8 . hasted. 
7 8 . cries for sighs. 7 4 . was laid behind. 
8 1 . He says to her, etc., Oh, be. 
Readings from A 1, 2, are added, in a later hand, 
in the margin ofl, S. 


From a copy formerly in the possession of Charles Ktik- 
patrick Sharpe, now belonging to Mr Macmath The paper 
on which it is written has the water-mark 1 822 This ver- 
sion closely resembles C and K. 

1 Rob Boy 'B from the Highlands come 
Down to the Lowland border, 



And there he *s stole a fair lady away, 
To keep his house in order. 

2 As he came in by Blackhill gate, 

Twenty men his arms did carry, 
And he has stole a fair lady away. 
On purpose hir to marry. 

3 No tidings came unto the house, 

Nor none went in before him, 
Or else she had been run away, 
For she did still abhor him. 

4 But with his men he surunded the house, 

Himself went in unto hir, 
And when that he had found her out 
He prof est how much he lovt hir. 

5 ' wilt thou be my dear ? ' he says, 

' wilt thou be my hony ? 

wilt thou be my wedded wife ? 
For I love you far better than ony.' 

6 ' I will not be your dear/ she says, 

' 1 will not be your honey, 

1 will not be your wedded wife ; 
You love me for my money/ 

7 But he hir drew amongst his crew, 

She holding by hir mother ; 

With doleful cries and watry eyes 

The parted from each other. 

8 He gave hir no time for to dress 

As brides do when the marry, 
But fast he hurried hir away, 
And rowd hir in his plaidy. 

9 He set hir on a milk-white steed, 

Himself lept on behind hir, 
And he has carried hir away, 
Hir friends the could not find hir. 

10 The lady's cries were oftimes heard, 

But none durst venture to hir ; 
She gaurded was on every side, 
Hir friends could not rescue hir. 

11 As the went over hills and rocks, 

The lady oftimes fainted ; 
Cries, Wo be to my curst mony, 
These roads to me invented. 

12 As the came in by Drummond town 

And at Bachannan tarried, 
He bought to her a cloak and gown, 
Tet wad she not be married. 

13 And when she came the priest before 

He askd if she would marry, 

But the parson's zeal it was so hot 

For her will he did not tarry. 

14 Four held hir up before the priest, 

Tow laid hir in hir bed, 0, 
But still she cried, with watry eyes, 
When she was by him laid 0. 

16 ' Now you 'r to the Highlands come, 

Out of your native clime, lady, 
Never think of going back, 

But tak it for your hame, lady. 

16 ' Be content, be content, 

Be content to stay, lady, 
Now you are my wedded wife, 
Until your dying day, lady. 

17 < Rob Roy was my father calld, 

McGregor was his name, lady, 
And all the country where he dwelt 
None could exceed his fame, lady. 

18 ' I '11 be kind, I '11 be kind, 

I '11 be kind to thee, lady, 
A' thy kindred for thy sake 
Shall truly favoured be, lady. 

19 * My father reignd as Highland king, 

And ruled at his will, lady, 

There was nether lord nor duke 

Durst do him ony ill, lady. 

20 ' Ay through time, ay through time, 

Ay through time was he, lady, 
Filled was w[ith] sweet revenge 
On a' his enemys, lady. 

21 ' He was a hedge about his friends, 

A heckle till his foes, lady, 
And every ane that did him rang, 
He took them oer the nose, lady. 

22 'I 'mas bold, I 'mas bold, 

[As bold] as forest boar, lady, 



Every ane that does thee rang 

Shall f eell my stell claymore, lady. 

23 ' Neer a man from Highlands came 

That ever did him dare, lady, 
Bat if those persons did escape 
He sized upon there gear, lady. 
Ay through time, etc. 

24 ' My father dealt in horse and cows, 

Bat thoo in goats and sheep, lady, 
Thre and twenty thousand merk 
Makes me a man complete, lady. 
Be content, etc. 

25 ' Of all the exploits my father did 

I do him now outshine, lady ; 
He never took a prize in 's life 
With sic a face as thine, lady.' 

226. Lirie Lindsay. 

P. 255. 

Title : Old Song, Rob Roy. 
the Gipsy Laddy. 

Tune, Jonny Fa, 

After 14. Tune, Had away frae me, Donald. 

Here may be added, as an appendix, a fragment of a 
ballad on the " Abduction of Nelly Symon." " The 
chorus is in Gaelic and the song is sung to one of the 
finest native airs." From The Aberdeen Herald and 
Weekly Free Press, February 8, 1883. 

1 They hoised her up upon a mare ; 
It was not for her gowd nor gear ; 
'T was for her beauty, keen and rare, 

That they stealt Ellen Symon. 
Se ho or so gur tallum tall urn, 
Se ho or so gur e so hallum ; 
Bheir mis ma chmteach ghuds gur tallum, 

Chaileig, Eilie Symon. 

2 Her father made a bow o here, 
Her uncle he gae twa pound mair, 

To hang the rogue he vowed and aware 
That stealt his Ellen Symon. 

8 When they came on till Allanqooich, 
They drank the whisky oot o a quaich, 
And ilka ane was blythe eneuch, 
But wae was Ellen Symon. 

4 When they came to the brig o Don, 

Peter swore he would move on ; 

Says Charlie, Lad, ye sauna win, 

For my brave Ellen Symon. 

From " The Old Lady's Collection/' No 39. 

1 Ther lives a maid in Edinbrugh citty, 

Elisa Lindsy they call her by name ; 
Monye an came to court her, 
But a' ther suit was in vain. 

2 Oat spak the hear of Carnusse*, 

An out spak he ; 
4 Fat wad ye think of me if I wad gae to 

Edinbrugh citty 
An bring this fair creatur we me ? ' 

3 * If ye gae to Edinbrugh city 

An bring this fair creatur we the, 
Bring her home we ne flatry, 
But by grait policy.' 

4 Fan he came to the Netherbou, 

Elisa Lindsy for to see, 
She drank we him a bottel of cherry, 
And bare him gued company. 

5 ' Will ye goo to the Hillands we me, Lisee ? 

Will ye go to [the] Hillands we me ? 

Ye 's gett cruds an grean why.' 

6 Out spak Lissy's mother, 

An out spak she ; 
' If ye say so to my daughter, 
[I] swaer I ell gar ye die.' 

7 * Keep well yer dother, old lady, 

Keep well yer dother f ra me, 
For I care as littel for yer dother 
As she dos for me.' 

8 Oat spak Lissie Lindsy, 

We the tear in her eay ; 
' I will gie ye ten gunies, 

If ye wad bat sitt in my roam bat a whill 
Till I dra you[r] picter, 

To mind me on your swit smill.' 

9 ' I care as littel for your ten gunies 

As ye dou for mine, 
But if ye love my person, 
Goo we me if ye inclayn.' 



10 Fan they came to Carnusie, an even to the 

Out came the old day : 

* Te 'r welcom home, Sir Donall, ye 'r welcom 

An that fair creator ye we/ 

11 ( Caa na me mare Sir Donald, 

Bat caa me Donall, yer son, 
An I '11 caa ye my mother, 

An caa me Donall, yer son : ' 
The words wer spoken in Ears, 

Lassie she had nean. 

12 ' Gett us a supper of cruds, 

[A sapper of cruds] an green whay, 
An a bed of the best of yeer rushes, 
Besids a covering of gray.' 

13 Lissy Lindsy bieng weary, 

She lay over long in they day : 

* Win up, Lissy Lindsy, 

Ye haa layen our lang in the day ; 
Te might haa ben out we my mider, 
Milken the eus an the kay.' 

14 Out spak Lissie Lindsy, 

The tear in her eay ; 
' I wiss I wer in Edenbrugh citty, 
I canne milk eus nor kay.' 

15 * Hold your toung, Lissie Lindsy, 

An dou not freat on me, 
For I will haa ye back to Edenbrugh citty, 
Nou we grait safity.' 

16 Out spak Lissie Lindsy, 

The tear in her eay ; 

* If I wer in Edenbrugh citty, 

They woud think littel of me.' 

17 He touk her by the milk-white hand, 

Some other forest to vue ; 

18 Fan they came to Carnusy, out came Donal's 


A gay old knight was he ; 
Out cam Donald's father, 
An four-an-tuenty him we. 

19 ' Ye 'r welcom, Lissie Lends[y], 

Dear welcom to me ; 
VOL. v. 34 

Ye 's be Lady Carnusie, 
An gett Donal, my son.' 

20 Out came Donald's mother, 
An four-an-tuenty her we : 

* Ye 'r welcom, my son, 

An that fair creatur ye we.' 

17*. Forest : doubtful. 

227. Bonny Lizie Baillie. 

P. 266. h. ' Elisa Bailly,' " The Old Lady's Collec- 
tion," No 37. 

3 As I came in by Carron sid, 

An in nou by Dumblain, 
Tber I mett we Dugall Grame : 
He said he wad see me hame. 

4 < My bonny Lisey Bailie, 

I ill rou ye in my plady, 
An ye wad gaa along we me, 
I wad make ye a Heallend lady.' 

5 * If I wad gaa along we ye, 

They wad say I wer na wise ; 
For I cane nether milk cou nor ewe, 
Nor can I speak Ears.' 

6 My bonny Lisie Bailly, 

For that ye nead na fear ; 
For onye that I cane dou, 
I ill learn to you, my dear.' 

19, 21 ( Then I ill cast off my bra nou goon, 

Made of the silk an saten, 
An I ell pitt on the Lame-made grays, 
To skip among the breachan.' 

* My bonny Lisie Bailly, 

I ill rou ye in my plaidy, 
An ye will go along we me, 
I ill make ye a Healand lady.' 

20 ' Then I ell cast aff my bra nou shoos, 

Made of the Turky lader, 
An I ell pit on the hame- made broges, 
To skip among the header/ 

'My bonny Lisie Bailly, 

I ell rou ye in my plady ; 
Since ye V to goo along we me, 

I ell make ye a Healend lady.' 

16 Foull faa the logarheaded Loland lads 

That lives near Castell Carey, 
Has latten the bonny lass away 
The Heallend lad to marry. 

16*. Carey written so as to look like Carly, 



228. Glasgow Peggie. 

P. 271. A is extant among Sharpe's relics, written 
on paper having 1819 in the water-mark, in two hands : 
stanzas 1-6, 8, 9 1 , in one, 7 (inserted in the margin) 
and the rest in another. Sharpe has made a few slight 
changes in the text, besides regulating the spelling. 
The ballad is now given as it stands in the original 

1 * As I cam in by boney Glassgow town, 

The Highland troops were a* before me, 
And the bon[ey]est lass that ere I saw, 
She lives in Glassgow, tha ca her Peggy. 

2 ( I wad gie my boney black horse, 

So wad I my good gray nagie, 
If I were a hundred miles in the North, 
And nan wee me but my boney Peggy/ 

8 Up then spoke her father dear, 

Dear vow 1 but he was wondrous sorey ; 
' Weel may yea steel a cow or a ewe, 
But ye darna steel my boney Peggy.' 

4 Up then spoke her mother dear, 

Dear vow ! but she spoke wondrious sorey ; 
' Now, since I *ve brought ye up this length, 
Wod ye gang awa wee a Highland fellow? ' 

5 He set her on his boney black horse, 

He set himsel on his good gray nagy ; 

They have riden over hill[s] and dales, 

Now he is awa wee his boney Peggy. 

6 They are riden or hills and dales, 

They have riden or mountains maney, 
Untill that thay com to a low, low glen, 
And there he 's lain down wee his boney 

7 Up then spoke the Earll o Argyle, 

Dear vow I bet he spoke wondrous sorry ; 
' The bonniest lass in a' Scotland 
Is af an awa wi [a] Highland fellow 1 ' 

8 There bed was of the boney green grass, 

There blankets was o the hay sa boney ; 
He falded his philabeg below her head, 
Now he 's lawing down wee his boney Peggy. 

9 Up then spoke the boney Lawland lass, 

And oh, but she spoke wondrous sorry ; 
1 A 's warruant my mother would hae a gae soir 

To see me Han here wi you, my Willie I ' 

10 ' In ray father's house there 's feather-beds, 

Feather-beds an blankets many ; 
The 're a' mine, an the '11 shoon be thine, 

An what needs your mother be sae sorry, Peggie? 

11 * Dinna yon see yon nine score o kye, 

Feding on yon hill sae boney? 
The 're a' mine, an the '11 shoon be thine, 
An what needs your mother be sorry, Peggie? 

12 * Dinna you see yon nine score o sheep, 

Feeding on yon brae sae bonny ? 
The 're a 7 mine, an the '11 shoon be thine, 
An what needs your mother be sorry for you? 

IS Dinna you see yon bonny white house, 

Shining on yon brae sae bonny ? 
An I am the earl o the Isle o Sky, 
And surely my Peggie will be calle[d] a lady.' 

1*, 2'. where. 2*. a. not unlike 2, but really a. 
9 s . she sape. 9*. soir : i not dotted. 
10*. be the thene. 


Macmath MS., p. 93. Taken down at Crowmichael, 
Kirkcudbrightshire, 24th August, 1892, from the recitation 
of Miss Jane Webster, who had learned it more than fifty 
years before, at Airds of Kella, from the tinging of Rosanna 

1 It was on a day, and a fine summer's day, 

When the Lowlands they were making ready, 
There I espied a weel-far'd lass, 

She was gaun to Glasgow, and they ca her 

2 It 's up then spak a silly auld man, 

And O but he spak wondrous poorly ! 
Sayin, Ye may steal awa my cows and my ewes, 
But ye '11 never steal awa my bonny Peggy. 

3 * O baud yer tongue, ye silly auld man, 

For ye hae said enough already, 
For I '11 never steal awa yer cows and yer ewes, 
But I '11 steal awa yer bonny Peggy.' 

4 So he mounted her on a milk-white steed, 

Himsel upon a wee grey naigie, 
And they hae ridden ower hill and dale, 
And over moors and mosses many. 

5 They rade till they cam to the head o yon glen, 

It might hae frightened anybody ; 
He said, Whether will ye go alongst with me, 
Or will ye return back again to your mam- 



6 Their bed was o the green, green grass, 

And their blankets o the bracken sae bonnie, 
And he 'B laid his trews beneath their head, 
And Peggy 's lain doun wi her Heilan laddie. 

7 They lay till it cam to the break o day, 

Then up they rose and made them ready ; 
He said, Whether will ye go alongst with me, 
Or will ye return back again to your mam- 

8 * I '11 follow you through frost and snow, 

I '11 follow you through dangers many, 
And wherever ye go I will go alongst with you, 
For I '11 never return back again to my 

9 * I hae four-and-twenty gude milk-kye, 

They 're a' bun in yon byre sae bonny, 
And I am the earl o the Isle o Skye, 

And why should not Peggy be called a lady ? 

10 ' I hae fifty acres o gnde land, 

A' ploughed ower and sawn sae bonny, 
And I am young Donald o the Isle o Skye, 
And wherever I 'm laird I '11 make ye lady.' 

231. The Earl of Errol. 

P. 284. B as it stands in " The Old Lady's Collec- 
tion," No 26. 

1 Earell is a bonny place, 

lit stands upon yon plain ; 
The gratest faut about the toun, 
Earell *s na a man. 

For fat ye caa the danton o'tt, 

According as ye ken, 
For the pearting . . . . f 
Lady Earel lays her lean. 

2 Eearel is a bonny place, 

It stans upon yon plain ; 
The rosses they grou read an whit, 
An the apples they grou green. 

3 ' Fatt nead I my apron wash 

An hmg upon yon pinn? 
For lang will I gaa out an in 
Or 1 hear my barn's dinn. 

4 ' Fatt nead I my apron wash, 

Or hang upon yon dor ? 
For side an wid is my petecot, 
An eaen doun afore. 

5 ' Bat I will laice my stays agean, 

My middel jump an smaa ; 
I ull gaa a* my days a meaden, 
Awaa, Earell, awaa ! ' 

6 It fell ance upon a day Lord Earell 

Went to hunt him lean, 

7 He was na a mill fra the toun, 

Nor yett sae far awaa, 
Till his lady is on to Edinbrugh, 
To tray him att the laa. 

8 Littel did Lord Earell think, 

Fan be satt doun to dine, 
That his lady was one to Edinbrugh, 
Nor fatt was in her mind. 

9 Till his best servant came 

For to latt him kenn, 

10 She was na in att the toun-end, 

Nor yett sa far awa, 
Till Earell he was att her back, 
His goudy lokes to sha. 

11 She was na in att the toun-head, 

Nor just att the eand, 
Till Earell he was att her back, 
Her earent for to ken. 

12 * As lang as they caa ye Kett Carnege, 

An me Sir Gilbert Hay, 

I us gar yer father sell Kinnerd, 
Yer tougher for to pay ' 

IS * For to gar my father sell Kennerd, 

It wad be a sm, 

To gee 't to ony naughty knight 
That a toucher canna wine.' 

14 Out spak the first lord, 

The best among them a* ; 

I 1 never seed a lady come to Edinbrugh 
We sick matters to the laue.' 

15 Out spak the nixt lord, 

The best of the toun ; 
4 Ye gett fiften weell-fared maids, 

An pitt them in a roun, 
An Earl in the midst of them, 

An latt him chouss out ane.' 

16 They ha gotten fiften well-fared maids, 

An pat them in a roun, 



An Earel in the mids of them, 
An bad him chuse out ane. 

17 He voued them a* intell a rau, 

Even up an doun, 

An he has chossen a well-fared may, 
An Meggie was her name. 

18 He touk her by the hand, 

Afore the nobles a', 
An tuenty times he kissed her moue, 
An lead her throu the haa. 

19 'Louk up, Meggie, luke up, Meggie, 

An thinkne sham[e] ; 
As lang as ye see my goudy loks, 
Lady Earel 's be yer name.' 

20 Thir was fifteen nobelmen, 

An as mony ladys gay, 
To see Earel proven a man 

21 ' Ye tak this well-fared may, 

An keep her three roun reaths of a year, 
An even att the three raiths* end 
I ull draue near.' 

22 They ha tane that well-fared may, 

An kepeed her three roun reaths of a year, 
An even att the three raiths' end 
Earel' s son she bare. 

23 The gentelmen they ga a shout, 

The ladys gaa a caa, 
Fair mat faa him Errel, 
But vou to his lady ! 

24 He was na in at the toun-head, 

Nor just att the end, 
Till the letters they wer metting him 
That Errol had a son. 

25 ' Luke up, Megie, luk up, Meggie, 

An think na shame ; 
As lang as ye see my bra blak hat, 
Lady Earrol 's be yer name. 

26 ' I will gie my Meggie a mill, 

Bat an a pice of land, 

To foster my young son. 

27 'Fare is a f my merry men a', 

That I pay meat an gair, 
For to conve my Meggie hame, 


Even in Lord Earrers coach 
They conved the lassie hame. 

29 Tak hame yer dother, Lord Kennard, 

An take her to the glen, 

For Earell canno pleas her, 

Earell nor a' his men.' 

30 ' Had I ben lady of Earrol, 

Of sick a boony place, 
I wadne gain to Edmbrugh 
My husband to disgrace/ 

Refrain. Given only at the end. 

15 4 , 16 2 . roum. 20 2 . gay ladys. 24*. that that. 

288. E is also in the small MS. volume of C K. 
Sharpe's, * Songs," p. 17. The reading in 3 4 is 
" toss," "top " being a mis-copy. 

289. Findlay MSS, I, 135 ; < Airlie,' from Miss 
Butchart, Arbroath. 

1 Lord Airlie 's courted mony a lady, 

He 's courted mony a ane, O 
An he 's awa to bonny Kinnaird, 
Lady Katrine's love to win. O 

2 An when he cam to bonny Kinnaird, 

An on the bowhn-green, 

There he saw his am Katrine, 

Was walking there alane. 

8 * O will ye go to bonnie Airlie, 

Alang wi me to dine ? 
Or will ye go to bonny Airlie, 
To be my lady fine ? ' 

4 * I winna go to bonny Airlie 

Alang wi you to dine, 
But I will go to bonny Airlie 
To be your lady fine.' 

5 He would not hae the lady gay, 

That rustled in her silk, 
But he would hae the country-girl, 
Groin to sell her milk. 

6 He took his Peggie by the hand 

An led her through the ha, 
An twenty times he kissed her. 
Before the nobles a'. 

7 He took his Peggie by the hand 

An led her through the trance, 
An twenty times he kissed her 
Before he bade her dance. 



Findlay MSS, I, 153, from Bell Harris, Muirside of 
Kinnell, Forfarshire, " once a servant of the family of 
Carnegie, and now upwards of eighty years of age 

1 They hae made a marriage o 't, 

An they hae made it sune, O 
An they hae made a marrige o 't, 
It stood at Earlstoon. O 

2 When een was come, an bells were rung, 

An a' men boond for bed, 
The earl and his gay ladie 
In ae chamber were laid. 

3 It 's up i the mornin the earl rose, 

Went to anither room ; 
Up she rose an away she goes, 
An to Kinnaird she came. 

4 They socht her up, they socht her doon, 

They socht her through a 1 the toon, 
An she was seen walkin her lane, 
An her bed-goon it was on. 

5 He wissd his horse had broken 's neck 

When first he to Kinnaird did come. 

6 There was na ane bade him come in 

Bat John Lindsay him lane. 

7 When he was at bonny Kinnaird, 

An on the bowlm-green, 
His hair was like the threeds o gold, 

An his eyes like diamonds sheen ; 
He micht '11 ae served the best Carnegie, 

That ever bore the name. 

8 He said, Tho ye be Kate Carnegie, 

I am Sir Gilbert Hay , 
I '11 gar your father sell Kinnaird, 
Your tocher-gude he maun pay. 

9 To gar my father sell his land 

I think it were a sin, 
For ony silly brat like you ; 
Ye couldna tocher win. 

10 * I may wash my apron 

An hing it on the tower, 
An I may kilt my petticoats, 
They 're even doon afore.' 

1 1 But the earl he 's awa to Edinbro, 

To prove himself a man ; 
The lady she fast followd him, 
To swear that he was none. 

12 An when they cam to Edinbro, 

And into the ha, 

There she saw her ain gude lord, 
Amang the nobles a'. 

13 He took the tapster-lais 

An led her through the room, 
An twenty times he kissed her moo, 
Afore his lady's een. 

14 She took the cocks all frae her head 

An dashed them at the wa ; 
4 Awa I awa, Lord Earl ! ' she says, 
' Awa, Lord Earl, awa ! ' 

15 But the earl he hae gotten leave 

To choise a maid unto himsel, 
An he hae choised a country-lass, 
Cam butter an eggs to sell. 

16 He took the lassie by the hand 

An led her through the room : 
* I 'd gie thee three times three hundred pound, 
If you 'd bear to me a son.' 

17 * Haud aff your hands, Lord Earl,' she said, 

' Haud aff your hands frae me ; 
For I wad think it a great disgrate 
For a* my kin an me.' 

18 But he has called for a private room, 

An there he laid her doun, 
An there he took his will o her, 
Upon a bed o down. 

19 She was three quarters of a year 

Confined to a room, 
And bonny was the babe she bore, 
Sir John Hay was his name. 

20 ' Wae be to you, Peggie Stuart, 

That ae sister o mine ! 
Ye 've pairted me an my gude lord, 
We '11 never meet again/ 

21 Up spak her sister, Lady Jean, 

An I could gain sick an estate, 
I wad gien my husband up to disdain. 

6 a . John Lindsay is explained to be the gardener. 

!! They lady. 

IS 4 . Followed by Wi twenty lookin on, perhaps an 

alternative verse. 

14 1 . She is explained as the tapster-lass 
20 1 . Query by Mr Findlay Lady Jean? 

290. D b. Now collated with a MS. of Charles 
Kirkpatrick Sharpe, and with another copy of the same 
pieces in u North Country Ballads," Miscellanea Curi- 
osa, Abbotsford Library. 

Sharpe, p. 15. Burden M. of it 



Burden . you call : of it. 4 . lies alone O. 
1*. at it grows. 2 a . upon a. 2 4 . He 's not. 
4 1 . It 's sure. 6*. good witness. 
7. Said, Had I been the lady of Errol. 
7 4 . of such. 8 s . And he gave her an. 
10 1 . lien down. 10 s . And a. 12 1 . Take home. 
12*. take. 12*. cannot please her. 
Scott. 7 4 . O come. 12 4 . No can. 

232. Richie Story. 

P. 292 b, 2d paragraph, first line. Say : L. F., a 
daughter of John, third Earl. 

8d paragraph. Say : Lord John Fleming was cre- 
ated Earl of Wigton, Lord Fleming of fiiggar and 
Cumber nauld, by letters patent dated 19th March, 1606 
Hunter (2d ed.), p 647. 

293. B, as it stands in " The Old Lady's Collec- 
tion," No 21. 

1 Comarnad it is a very bonny place, 

An ther is ladys three, madam, 
Bat the farest an rarest of them a' 
Has marred Richerd Stony. 

2 * O hear is a letter to ye, madam, 

Hear is a letter to ye, madam ; 
The Earl of Hume, that galant knight, 
Is fain in love we you, madam. 

3 ' Ther is a letter to you, madam, 

[Ther is a letter to you, madam ;] 
The Eearl of Hume, that galant knight, 
Disers to be yer servant trou, madam.' 

4 I ill haa nan of his letters, Richerd, 

I ill hae nane of his letters, [Richerd,] 
I have voued, an I ill keep it trou, 
I ill marry nane bat ye, Richie. ' 

5 ' Say na saa to me, lady, 

Sai na saie to me, lady, 
For I ha nether lands nor rents 
For to man ten ye on, lady/ 

6 Hunten Tour an Tillebarn, 

The house of Athell is mine, Riche, 
An ye sail haa them a', 
Fan ever ye inclen, Riche. 

7 ' For we will gaa to sea, Riche, 

I ill sitt on the deak, Riche, 
I ill be yer servant air an lait, 
Att any houre ye lack, [Riche.] ' 

8 ' O manie ye be sad, sister, 

An mennie ye be sorry, Nelly, 
To live the has of bony Comernid, 
An follou Richert Stony? ' 

9 ' O fatt neads I be sad, sister, 

Or fou cane I be sorry, Anna? 
A bony lad is my delit, 
An my lot has been laid afore me.' 

10 As she wen[t] up the Parliment Closs, 

We her lassed shene so fine, 
Monny an bad the lady good day, 
But fue thought she was Richert's lady. 

11 As she went up the Parliment Closs, 

We her laised shon so fine, 
Monny an hailed that gay lady, 
But fue hailed Richerd Stony 

The Jirst, second, and fourth verse, perhaps, certainly 
the second and fourth, should have the trochaic ending 
which wefnd in stanzas 2, 5. It may have been supplied 
ad libitum. 

296. F a. Preserved in a small MS volume with the 
title " Songs " on the cover, entirely in Sharpens hand- 
writing, p 27. 

297. I. A stanza from the authority of Nannie 
Blake, an old servant at Peebles Robert Chambers, in 
Sharpe's Ballad Book, 1880, p. 131. 

1 Fair Rose wood le is a' my ain, 

My father left it to me so lately ; 
Gin ye '11 consent to be my ain, 

I '11 gie ye *t a', my Ritchie Storie.' 

236. The Earl of Aboyne. 

P. 314. C. Here given as it stands in " The Old 
Lady's Collection/' No 8. 

1 The Earl of Aboyn he 's carrlis an kind, 

An he is nou come frae Lonon ; 
He sent his man him befor, 
To tell of his hame-coming. 

2 First she called or her chainbermad, 

Sayn on Jeanie, her gentel woman : 
1 Bring me a glass of the best claret wine, 
To drink my good lord's well-hame-coming. 

3 ' My sarvants all, be ready att a call, 

For the Lord of Aboy[n] is coming. 

4 ' My cooks all, be ready at a [c]all, 

We the very best of meatt, 

For the Lord of Aboyn is coming. 

5 ' My maids all, be ready at a call, 

The rooms we the best all to be drest, 
For the Lord of Aboyn is coming/ 



6 She did her to the closs to take him from his hors, 

An she welcomed him fra London : 

1 Ter welcome, my gued lord, fra London I ' 

7 An I be sale welcom,' he says, 

* Ye '11 kiss me for my coming, 
For the morn sud ha ben my weding-day 
Gif I had stayed att London.' 

8 She turned her about we a disdanfull look, 

O dear, she was a pritty woman ! 
* Gin the morn sud ha ben yer weding-day, 
Ye may kiss yer houers at London/ 

9 . 

1 So I shall, madam, an ye *s ha na mare to say, 
For I ill dine we the markes of Huntly.' 

10 She did her to his servant-man, 

I wat they caed him Peater Gordon : 
' Ye will ask my good lord if he will late me 
We him a smgel mille to ride [to London].' 

11 ' You ned not, madam, .... 

I haae asked him already ; 
He will not lett you a singel mille ride, 

For he is to dine we the markes of Huntly.' 

12 She called on her chamber-maid, 

Sine on Jean, her gcnteiwoman : 

' Ye make my bed an tay up my head, 

Vou 's me for his hear coming ! ' 

IS She lived a year an day, we mucell grife an wae, 

The doctors were we her dealing , 
Withen a crak, her heart it brack, 
An the letters they went to London. 

14 He gae the table we his foot, 

An caped it we his knee, 
Gared silver cup an easer dish 
In flinders flie 


1 1 rader I had lost a' the lans of Aboyne 
Or I had lost bonny Margrat Irven.' 

16 He called on his best servang-man, 

I wat they [caed] him Piter Gordon : 
' Ye gett our bosses sadled we speed, 
Vou *s me for our hear coming ! 

18 'We must to the North, to burry her corps, 

Aless for our hear coming 1 
I rather I had lost a* the lands of Aboyn 
Or I had lost bonny Marg[ra]t Irvien ! ' 

I 1 , carliss : perhaps courtis. 8 a . pritty : doubtful. 

818-20. Copies of G, I, J, were sent by Motherwell 
to C. K. Sharpe, in a letter dated December 6, 1824. 
In all the transcripts there are some slight changes of 
the MS. text, such as Motherwell was quite in the way 
of making. To I he added the following lines, which 
are found substantially in J. They may have been 
subsequently recollected by the reciter of I. 

10 She has called her servant-maid, 

And Jean, her gentlewoman : 
' Go make me a bed and lay me down, 
I 'm as sick as any woman/ 

11 Word has to new London gane, 

To the tavern where he was dining ; 
He gave such a rap on the table where he sat 
Made all the house to wonder. 



For we '11 a* be in black, fra the hose to the hat, 
Vou 's me for bonny Margrat Irvieen t 

' I would rather hae lost a* the lands o Aboyne 
Or I M lost my Peggy Irvine ! ' 

II 1 . Motherwell suggests : Word has now to. 

321. Fmdlay MSS, 1, 120. The Yerle o Aboyne,' 
from Mrs Main, Inchmarlo, Kincardmeshire. 

1 The Yerle o Aboyne 's to London gane, 

He met in wi a temptin woman ; 
For she sat an sang an birld at the wine, 
An she wadna lat him hame fae Lunon. 

2 ' My cook-maids a 1 , be well in ca, 

Had pots an pans a boilin, 
Wi the roast an the boil, 

To attend my guid lord's comin ' 

3 She steppit sae neatly oot the way, 

She gaed, she went an met him : 
' Ye 're welcome home, my ain guid lord, 
You 'r thrice weelcome fae Lunon.' 

4 ' An I be welcome home/ he says, 

1 Ye '11 kiss me for my comin, 
For this very day I 'd been wedded to a maid 
Gin I 'd staid langer in Lunon ' 

5 She turnd her about wi a sorrowf u look, 

Such a sorry an angry woman 1 
' An the letters be true I receivd last frae you, 
Gae kiss your whores in Lunon.' 


6 Haem she gaed frae .... 
Bat wi a crack her heart did brak, 


236. The Laird o Drum. 

7 Fifty letters seald wi black, 
An they are on to Lunon, 
An when he lookd the letters upon 
He says, O wae 's me for my pairtin I 

P. 834. B, as it stands in " The Old Lady's Col- 
lection/' No 16, 'The Lard of Drum.' 

1 Ther was a knigh[t], 

An a glllan knight was he, 
An he 's faein in love we his shiperd's daughter, 

8 When he cam to bonny Aboyne, 

He thocht that she was sleepin, 
But when he drew the sma curtain by 
Then he fell oot a weepin. 

9 ' O dear ! is she dead? and a wow ! is she dead? 

Ah, woe 's me for our pairtin ! 
I rather had lost a* the lands o Aboyne 
Or I 'd pairted wi Peggie Irvine. 

10 * A' my friends did me disdain 
For marryin the name o Irvine.' 

The first stanza is also given thus (p. 121) : 

The Earl of Aboyne he 's courtous an kin, 

He 's kin to every woman ; 
He 's kind when he comes, an he 's kind when he 

But he never brings his lady to London. 

From Miss Butehart, Arbroath, p. 146. 

1 The Earl o Aboyne 's to London gane, 
An taen Duke Huntly wi him, 

2 She called on Jack, her gentleman, 

An Jean, her gentlewoman : 
' Gae dress my fair body in some finer dress, 
For the Earl o Aboyne is comin.' 

8 She 's gaen doun by yon bnrnside, 

An there she saw him comin : 
' Ye 're welcome, welcome, Earl o Aboyne, 
Te 're welcome hame frae Lunon. 

'Gae back, gae back then, Earlo Aboyne, 

Nae thanks to yon for comin; 
Gin tomorrow wad hae been your fair weddin-day, 

Gae kiss your dames in Lunon. 1 

He could nether gang nor ride; 
He fell so deap in her fancy 
Till his nose began to blead. 

3 ' Bonny may, an bra may, 

Canno ye on me rue? 
By a' the meads I ever saa, 
Ther is nane I lou by you. 

4 ' Ye 'r a shepherd's ae dother, 

An I am a barren's son, 
An gratt is the pleasur I wad haa 
To see you gaa out an in, may.' 

5 ' I am a shiperd's ae dother, 

An ye V a barren's son, 
An ther is ne pleasur I could ha 
To see you gae out nor in. 


For I widne gee the fancey of my bonny love 
For ne love nor favour of you, sir.' 

7 ' Bonny may, an bra may, 

Canna ye on me rue? 
By a* the maids I ever saa, 
Ther is nane I loie but you.' 

8 'Lay not your love on me,' she says, 

' Lay not your love on me, 
For I am our lake to be yer bride, 
An you[r] quen I ell never be. 

9 For I will wear nane of your silks, 

Nor nean of yer scarlet clase ; 
For the hue of the eue sail be my goun, 
An I will goo as I pleas/ 


Ye V na our lake to be my bride, 
An my quien ye 's never be. 

11 * Bonney may, an bra may, 

Winne ye on me rue? 
By a' the may[s] I see, 
Ther is nane I loe but you, may*' 


12 ' If ye ha faen sae deap in my fancy 

Ye cane nether gang nor rid, 
Ye take me to the middel of the ring, 
An bear me guid comp[a]ny.' 

13 He has tane her by the milk-whit hand 

An led her thro hase an hours : 

* Ye 'r the jule of my heart, 

An a' I have is yours/ 

14 He tuke her by the milk-whit hand 

An led her out an in : 

* Ye *r the jule of my heart, 

My d[ea]r, ye *r welcom in.' 

15 Out spak his brother John, 

Brother, ye haa don grate wrong ; 
Ye ha marred a wife this night 
Discredet to all yer kin.' 

16 'Hold yer toung, my brother John, 

For I hae don ne wrang, 
For I ha marred a wife to wine, 
An ye ha ane to spend.' 

May, 4 4 , II 4 , sir, 6 4 , ar? added for singing as is 
in other copies, and either one of these, or O, 
would naturally be appended tn the other stanzas. 

8 1 . Lay not fancyour love on me. The next line 
shows that fane was written by mistake. 

325. Findlay's MS., p. 13^has five stanzas of the 
ballad, from the recitation of a woman in Kincardine- 
shire. The five stanzas are very nearly the same as 
D 1, 2, 4, 5, 6 1 * 2 , with the matter-of-fact conclusion, 

An a* body seemed to be content, 
And she was at his will. 

A stanza from another version is given at the same 
place which resembles 13 8 : 

She canna wash your china cups, 

Nor dress you a dish o tea, O 
But weel can she milk baith cow and ewe, 

Wi her cogie at her knee. O 

I have received nearly the same from Mr Walker of 
Aberdeen as sung by John Walker, crofter, Portlethen, 

Yer china cups I canna wash, 

Nor cook a cup o tea, O 
But weel can I milk the cowes and the ewes, 

Wi the cogie on my knee. O 

237. The Duke of Gordon's Daughter. 

P. 882. There is a copy in a collection of folio 
sheet ballads, British Museum, 1346. m. 8, with the 
TOL. v. 35 


date September 8th, 1775, at the end ; earlier, there- 
fore, than any of those I had before me excepting a, 
and worth collating. 

I 4 , they wanting. 2*, 3 4 . she did. 8 2 . the wanting. 

S*. Jean 's fallen in. 4*. mony. 5 s . with wanting. 

5 4 . Jeanny. 6 4 . she *s no. 

7 8 . Lady Jean 's fallen in love with. 

7 4 . she would. 8*. upon yon. 8*. he did. 

8 4 . a training of. 9 1 . O woe be. 

9 2 . And wanting: death shall you. 9 4 . shalt thou. 

10 1 . Duke of. 10. he did such a thing. 

II 8 . him put off his gold lace. II 4 . the wanting. 

13 4 . will I. 14 2 . a yer but only three. 

14 s . babe on. 15 1 . O I 'm weary with. 

16 comes before 15. 

16 1 . O I am weary wandering. 16 2 . think it lang. 

1 7 s . sheen : all wanting. 1 7 4 . she could. 

18, 19, wanting. 20 1 . 1 was : glen of Foudland. 

20*. either house or sheen. 

21 1 . When they : to bonny C. G. 21 8 . out wanting. 

22 1 . O wanting : dear Jeannie G. 

22 2 . welcome dear. 22 4 . Captain wanting. 
23 x . over the. 23 2 . As wanting. 24 1 . ye. 
25 1 . what means this. 25 8 . are all dead. 
26 2 . drink, be jovial. 27 s . out with wanting. 
28 1 . pretty wanting. 28 s . can enter my. 

30-32 wanting. S3 2 , you 're welcome dear to me. 
S3 8 . You 're welcome, bonny Jeanny Gordon. 
S3 4 . With my young family. 

23S. Glenlogie, or, Jean o Bethelnie. 

P. 346. I b. A copy of this version has been 
found at Abbotsford, in a portfolio labelled ' The 
Rever's Wedding and other important papers.' There 
are a few differences of reading. 

In the stanza after 1, line 3, be richer, line 4, maun 


2 1 . Oh whare. 2*> 4 . gang : again soon. 
3 1 . he cam : gae. 3 1 . gae. 3 8 . my maister's. 
8 4 . stop till. 6 l . Gae : gar. 5 8 . lang or ere. 
5 4 . O wanting. 6 8 . quo she. 7 s . But wanting. 

239. Lord Baltoun and Auchanachie. 

P. 349. A b. Now collated with a MS. of Charles 
Kirkpatrick Sharpens and another copy of the same 
pieces in " North Country Ballads," Miscellanea Curi- 
osa, Abbotsford Library. Stanzas mostly of four lines. 

Sharpe, p. 10. I 1 , stepping on. I 3 , ye 're. 
2 1 . caren. 2*. Achanachie (and always). 
3 1 . not take ; it wanting. 3 2 . and he 's thrawn. 
4 1 . I 'm bown : you. 4 a . not. 
5 9 . out wanting : and they cutit. 7 1 . came. 
8i. fleed. 8*. Jeanie is. 



350. B o. From "The Old Lady's Collection," 
No 29. We have here Gordon of Auchanachie, though 
the scene is in Buchan. 

1 Buchan is bonny an ther lays my love, 

My fance is fixed on him, it winne remove ; 
[It winne remove] for a* I cane dee, 
Achanace Gordon is my love an sail be. 

2 Ben came her father, steps on the floor. 
Says, Jeanie, ye 'r acting the part of a hour ; 
Ye *r leaking ane that cares na for ye ; 
Wed Salton, an latt Achenecy be. 

S * Achainace Gordon is a pritty man, 
Bat Acchanace Gordon has na free land ; 
For his land is laying wast, an his castell faaen 

So ye man take Salton, latt Achennecy be.' 

4 'My friends may case me we Salton to wed, 
Bat my friends sail na case me we him to bed ; 

I ill never bear to him dother nor sin till the day 

I sail deei, 
For Achannace Gordon is my love an sail be.' 

5 Her friends they have cassed her we Salton to wed, 
Bat they never got her we him to bed ; 

She never bare dother nor sin till the day that she 

dead deei, 
For Achainace Gordon was her love and sud be. 

6 ' Ye that are her madins, ye take aff her goun, 
An I will infeft her in five thousand pound ; 

She sail werr silk till her heel and goud till her 

An she man forget him young Achanice.' 

7 'Ye that are my madins sanna take aff my goon, 
Nor will I be infefted in five thousand pound ; 

I winne wer goud on my head nor silk to my knee, 
Nor will I forsake young Achanice.' 

8 ' Ye that are her madins bring her to my bed, 
The bed is made ready an the shits doun spread ; 
She sail lay in her bed till tuall in the day, 

An sin forget him young Achanace.' 

9 ' Ye that are my madins sanna ha me to his bed, 
Tho the bed be made ready an the shits doun 


Nor will I lay in his bed till tuall of the day, 
Nor forsake him young Achanicy. 

10 ' For rather then have wedded Salton to wear goud 

to my knee, 
I rather wedded Achanicy trailed fait fish fraa the 


Or I had weded Salton an wore robes of read, 
I rader wead Achanace, we himbegg my b[r]ead.' 

11 Achanicy Gordon came fra the sea, 

We a gallant regment an brave companie ; 
He sought out his Jeanie we doll an we care, 
An Achanice Gordon is leak todispear. 

12 Doun came her handmaid, wringen her hands : 
' Alass for your staying sa lang in strang lands ! 
For Jeanie is marred, an nou she is dead. 
Alass for your staying sae lang on the flood ! ' 


' Take me to the room far my love lays in ; ' 

He has kessed her comly lips, they wer paill an 

An he dyed for his Jeanie that very same night. 

1*. came. 5 s . she deaded. 12 s . strying. 
12 4 . on doubtful. 

240. The Rantin Laddie. 

P. 352. B as it stands in " The Old Lady's Collec- 
tion," No S, 'The Rantan Laddy.' 

1 ' Aft have I played att the cards an the dice, 

They wer so very entisen, 
But this is a sad an a sorofull seat, 
To see my apron riseng. 

2 ' Aft ha I plad att the cards an the dice, 

For love of my laddy, 

Bat nou I man sitt in my father's kittche-nouk, 
An roke my baby. 

3 ' Bat gin I had an of my father's servens, 

For he has so mony, 

That wad gaa to the woods of Glentaner 
We a letter to the ranten laddy I ' 

4 ' Hear am I, an of your father's servants, 

For he has so many, 
That will gaa to the woods of Glentaner 
We a letter to the ranten laddy.' 

5 ' Fan ye gee to Aboyn, 

To the woods of Glentaner sie bonny, 
We yer hat in yer hand, gee a bou to the grond, 
In the presenc[e] of the ranten laddy.' 

6 Fan he gad to Aboyn, 

To the woods of Glentaner saae bonny, 
We his hat in his han, he gied a bou to the grond, 
In the preasence of the ranten laddy. 

7 Fan he louked the letter on, 

Saa loud as he was laughing ; 
Bat or he read it to an end 
The tears they came doun raping. 



8 Oaaiithii,orfaaiithat, 
Has ben so ill to my Meggie? 

9 < Bat ye gett four-an-tuinty mUk-whit steads, 

We an an O me I 

An as monny gay ladys to ride them on, 
To gaa an bring hame my Meggie. 

10 * Ye gett four-an-tuinty berrie-broun steeds, 

We an E an O an O me 1 
An as mony knights to ride them one, 
To gaa an bring hame my Meggie.' 

11 Ye lasses a', war ever ye be, 

An ye match we ony of our Deesid ladds, 
Ye '11 happy be, ye '11 happy be, 
For they ar frank an kin. 

12 The 'r frank an kin 

The *r free, 

An ye match we ony of our Deesid ladds, 
Ye '11 happy be. 

9 s , 10*. ome. 9*. laddys. 

In Findlay's MSS, I, 84 is this stanza, = B 5, C 12, 

4 When ye come to Aboyne's yetts, 

Aboyne's yetts they shine clearly, 
Ye '11 tak aff your hat, gie a bow wi your knee, 

Gie the letter to my rantin laddie.' 

241. The Baron o Leys. 

P. 855. Findlay's MSS, I, 85, gives the first stanza 
thus (from Mrs Main, Inchmarlo, Kincardineshire). 

The baron o Leys is to London gane, 

All in a mornin early ; 
He 'a shod his horse wi siller sheen, 

An shown them a* his folly. 

245. Young Allan. 

376 b, last paragraph. Talking Ships. See Lieb- 
recht, Zur Volkskunde, p. 365 f., apropos of Arna- 
son's Skipamal, pjo&sogur, II, 8. Arnason notes two 
talking ships in Fldamanna Saga, c. 36, and Liebrecht 
the Argo. 

377. A. The original, altered in places by Skeat, 
stands as follows in "The Old Lady's Collection," 
where Jt is No 4. 

1 Aa the skippers of merry Lothen, 
As they sat att the wine, 

Ther fell a rosin them among, 
An it was in an unhappy time. 

2 Some of them roused ther haks, 

An some of them ther hounds, 
An some of them ther gay ladys, 

Trood neat on the plain : 
Young Allan he roused his comely coug, 

That lay upon the strand. 

3 'I haa as good a ship this day 

As ever sallied our seas, 
Except it be the Barges Black, 

Bat an the Small Cord vine, 
The comly coug of Dornisdall ; 

We sail lay that three bay in time.' 

4 Out spak a littel boy, 

Just att Young Allan's knee, 
' Ye lie, ye lie, ye Young Allan, 
Sae loud as I hear ye lie. 

5 ' For my master has a littel boat 

Will sail thris as well as thin ; 
For she '11 come in att your formast 

An gee out att yer forlee, 
An nine times in a winter night 

She '11 take the wine fra the. 

6 * O fatt will ye wade, ye Young Allan, 

Or fatt will ye wad we me ? ' 
* I ill wad my head agenst yer land, 
Till I gett more monie.' 

7 They bed na sailed a legg, [a legg,] 

A legg bat bairiy three, 
Till throug an throu ther bonny ship 
They saa the green wall sea. 

8 They had na sailled a leag, [a leag,] 

A leag bat barly fave, 
Till through en throu ther bonny ship 
They saa the green wall wave. 

9 He gied up to the topmast, 

To see fat he coud see, 
An ther he saa the Surges Black, 

Bat an the Small Cordvine, 
The comly coug of Dornasdell ; 

The three was rent in nine. 

10 Young Allan he grat, an he wrang his hans, 

An he kent na fat till dee : 
1 The win is loud, an the waves is prood, 
An we will a' sink in the sea. 

11 * Bat. gin I cod gett a bonny boy 

To tak my healm in han, 
.... that wad bring 
My bonny ship safe to Ian, 



12 * He sud gett the tua part of my goad, 

An the therd part of my Ian, 
An gin me wine safe to shor 
He sud gett my daughter Ann.' 

18 ' Hear am I, a bonny boy 

That will take yer helm in ban, 
. . . an will bring 
Your bonny ship safe to land. 

14 < Ye take four-an-twenty fether-beds, 

An ye lay the bonny ship roun, 
An as much of the good cannis 
As make her hell an soun.' 

15 They took four-an-twenty f ether-beds, 

An laid the bonny ship roun, 
An as much of the good canies 
As made her hell an soun. 

16 ' Spring up, my bony ship, 

An goud sail be yer hair! ' 
Fan the bonny ship hard of that, 

Att goud sud be her hire, 
She sprang as fast fra the sate water 

As the spark die frae the fire. 

1 7 ' Spring up, my bonny ship, 

An goud sail be yer fee 1 ' 
An fan the bonny ship hard of that, 

Goud was to be her fee, 
She sprang as fast fra the sat water 

As the life dos fra the tree. 

18 The salors stans on the shore- sid, 

We ther ill-bukled shen : 
* Thanks to God an our gued master 
That ever we came to land ! ' 

19 ' Far is the bonny boy 

That took my healm in hand? 
.... that brought 
My bonny ship safe to land? 

20 ' He 's gett the twa part of my goud, 

The therd part of my Ian, 
An since we ha wone safe to shore 
He 's gett my doughter Ann/ 

21 ' Hear am I, the bonny boy 

That took yer healm in han, 
That brought yer bonny ship, 
An brought her safe to Ian. 

22 * I winne ha the tua part of yer goud, 

Nor the therd part of yer Ian, 

Bat since we ha wine safe to shor 

I will wed yer daugter Ann/ 

28 Fortey ships went to the sea, 

Forty ships an five, 
An ther came never on back 
Bat Young Allan alive. 

9*. comly cord. 12*, 20*, 22*. Anna. 

17M. hire for fee (caught from 16). 

23*. ane changed to Five. 

Written without division into stanzas or verses. 

246. Redesdale and Wise William. 

P. 383. There is a copy in C. K. Sharpe's " second 
collection " which is substantially the same as A. 
The variations here follow : 
A b. I 9 . Was. I 8 . There was a praising. 

I 4 . In an unhappy. 

2 1 . For some ones they did praise. 

2*. And wanting. S 1 . That out did speak. 

3*. Says, I saw never a. 

8*. But what I would her favour gain. 

3. With one blink of. 8 fl , 4. eye. 

4 1 . out did speak. 4 2 . spoke. 

4 5 . Whose favour you would never gain. 5 1 . you. 

A/ier 6 : ' That is too good a wager, William, 

Upon a woman's mind, 
It is to[o] good a wager Wil[lia]m, 
I 'm very sure you '1 tyne/ 

6 1 . So. 6*. he could neither go. 6*. Nor no. 

7 1 . has wrote a broad. 7*. his only. 

8*. read the letter over. 8 a . She looked. 

8 4 . enough. 9 s . she saw. 9 4 . riding throw. 

10 1 . Says wanting: Come hitherward. 

10*. here does come. 10 4 . For injury to me. 

11 1 . Come down, come down, said Reedesdale. 

11 2 . One sight of you I '11 see. II 8 . my gate. 
12, 18, wanting. 

14 * Come down, come down, O lady fair, 

One sight of you I '11 see, 

And bony is the rings of gold 

That I will give to thee/ 

15 If you have boney rings of gold, 

mine is bony tee ; 

Go from my gate now, Reedesdale, 
For me you will not see/ 

16 * Come down, come down, lady fair, 

One sight of you I '11 see, 
And boney is the bowers and halls 
That I will give to the/ 

1 7 * If you have boney bowers and halls, 

1 have bowers and halls the same ; 
Go from my gate now, Reedesdale, 

For down I will not come. 1 



18-21 wanting. 22*. O lady. 22*. Or then. 
22. Since. 2S 1 . So he has set that bower. 
23*. the house it took. 24 wanting, 

25 < Come hitherward,' the lady cried, 

* My maidens all, to me ; 
For throw the smoak and throw the heat, 
All throw it we must be.' 

26 1 . their mantles. 

26 s . And throw the smoak and throw the heat 

26*. They throw it all did win. 

27^. h a( i all got safely out 27 s . able for. 

27*. Sent some of them to. 

28*. Have not I gaind. 

The Danish ballad Vaeddemaalet,' Grundtvig, No 
224, spoken of under ' The Twa Knights,' ought to 
have been noticed here also. 

262. The Kitchie Boy. 

P. 401. A as it stands in " The Old Lady's Collec- 
tion," No 20. 

1 Ther was a lady fair an rear, 

A lady of birth an fame, 
She loyed her father's kittchen-boy, 
The greater was her shame. 

2 She coud never her love revell, 

Nor to him take, 

Bat in the forests weed an brade, 
Far they wer wont to wake. 

S It fell ance apon a day 

Her father went fra home, 
An she sent for the kitche-boy 
Into her room. 

4 ' Canna ye fance me, Willie? 

Cannie ye fance me ? 
By a* the lords I ever seed, 
Ther is nane I cane loie bat ye. 1 

5 ' O latt ne this be kent, lady, 

lat ne this be knouen, 

For in yer father got word of this, 

1 YOU he wad gare me die. 1 

6 Yer life sail na be tane, Willie, 

Yer life sail na be tean; 
I rader loss my ain heart-blead 
Or thy body gat wrang.' 

7 We her mery fair spiches 

She made the boy bold, 

Till he began to kiss an clap, 

An on his love lay hold. 

8 They hadne kissed an love-claped, 
As lovers fan they meatt, 

9 * The master-cook he will on me call, 

An ansured he man be ; 
In it war kent I war in hour we the, 
I fear they woud gar me diei. ' 

10 * The master-cook may on ye call, 

But ansured he will never be, 
For I haa thrie coffers fue of goud, 
Yer eyen did never see. 

1 1 ' An I will buld a bony ship for my love, 

An sett her to the seea, 
An saill she east, or saill she west. 
The ship sail be fair to see.' 

12 She has buld a bonny ship, 

An sett her to the sea; 
The top-masts was of the read goud, 
The baill of taffety. 

18 She gaie him a gay gold ring, 

To mind him on a gay lady 
That ance bair love to him. 

14 The day was fair, the ship was rair, 

Fan that suan sett to sea ; 
Fan that day tuall- month came an gade, 
Att London landed he. 

15 A lady louked our castell-wa, 

Beheld the day gaa doun, 

An she beheld that bonny ship, 

Came hailing to the toun. 

16 ' Come hear, come hear, my maires a', 

Ye see na fat I see ; 
The bonnest ship is coming to land 
Yer eyen did ever see. 

17 ' Ye busk ye, busk ye, my marres a', 

Ye busk ye unco fine, 
Till I gaa doun to yon shore-side 
To invite yon squar to dine. 

18 ' O ye come up, ye gay young squar, 

An take we me a dine ; 
Ye sail eatt of the gued white lofe, 
An drink the claret wine.' 

19*1 thank ye for yer bread, 
I thank ye for yer wine, 
I thank ye for yer courtice, 
Bat indeed I hanna time.' 



20 * Canna ye fance me? ' she says, 

' Cannie ye fance me ? 
Bay a' the lords an lairds I see, 
Ther is nane I fance bat ye.' 

21 ' They are fair awa fra me/ he says, 

' The 'r fair ayont the sea, 
That has my heart an hand, 
An my love ay sail be.' 

22 ' Hear is a gued gould ring, 

It will mind ye on a gay lady 
That ance bare love to ye/ 

23 ' I haa a ring on my finger 

I lee thrice as well as thine, 
Tho yours war of the gued read goud, 
An mine bat simpell tin/ 

24 The day was fair, the ship was rair, 

Fan that squar sett to sea ; 
Fan that day tuall-month came an gaid, 
Att hame again landed he. 

25 The lady's father louked over castell-wa, 

Beheld the day gaa doun, 

An he beheld that bonny ship 

Come hailing to the toun. 

26 * Come hear, my a dother, 

Ye Bee na fat I see ; 
The bonnest ship is coming to land 
My eyen did ever see. 

27 ' Ye busk ye, my dother, 

Ye busk ye unco fine, 
An I ill gai doun to yon shore-side 

An invite yon squer to dine : 
I wad gie a* my reants 

To haa ye marred to him/ 

28 They ar farr awa fra me,' she says, 

4 The 'r far ayont the sea, 
That has my heart an hand, 
An my love ay sail be/ 

29 ' O will ye come, ye gay hine squar, 

An take we me a dine? 
Ye sail eat of the gued fait bread 
An drink the claret wine/ 

30 ' I thank ye for yer bread, 

I thank ye for your wine, 
I thank ye for your courtisy, 
For indeed I haa na grait time/ 

31 cannie ye fance me? ' [he says, 

4 Cannie ye fance me ?] 

By a' the ladys I ever did see, 
Ther is nain I lue bat ye/ 

32 ' They are farr awa fra me,' she says, 

They are farr ayont the sea, 
That has my heart an han, 
An my love ay sail be/ 

53 ' Hear it is, a gay goud ring, 

It will mind ye on a gay hin chill 
That ance bare love to ye/ 

34 ' O gatt ye that ring on the sea saling ? 

Or gat ye it on the sand ? 
Or gat ye it on the shore laying, 
On a drouned man's hand V ' 

35 ' I got na it on the sea saling, 

I got na it on the sand, 
Bat I gat it on the shore laying, 
On a drouned man's hand. 

36 * O bonny was his chike, 

And lovely was his face ! ' 
1 Alass,' says she, 'it is my true-love Willie, 

37 He turned him rond about, 

An suitly could he sari 11 ; 
She turned her round, says, My love Willie, 
Hou could ye me biggeall ? 

38 ' A prist, a prist,' the old man crayed, 

' Latt this tua marred be ' 

Bat lettel did the old man keen 

It was his ain kittchen-boy. 

4 4 . I came. 7*. her love. 28 a . seas. 35*. laiying. 

257. Burd Isabel and Earl Patrick. 

P. 418 b, 3d paragraph. Say . A 7 (nearly) occurs 
in No 91, B 7, II, 313, and something similar in other 
places (as No 91, A 5, 6, D 7, No 92, B 17). 

422. C. There is another copy of this version in 
C. K. Sharpe's " second collection," with the following 

b. I 1 . Take warning, all ye maidens fair. 
2 a . father's heir. 2 4 . she did rue full sair. 
3 1 . Says, We. 3 3 . Which. 3'. Go ye. 
4 1 . He hied him to the. 

4 s . As fast as he could gang. 4 s . And he brought 
4 4 . sign with. 

5. And long before the sun went down 
Bird Isabeal bore his son, 



And she baa called him Patrick, 
As it was his father's name. 

6 a , 7 3 . Right far. 6 1 . parents was. 
6*. Had little gear. 7. And dowrey. 

8. Now it fell oat up on a time 

His wedding day was come, 

And all his friends invited were, 

His bride to welcome home. 

While every one engaged was 

That all should ready be, 
He hied him to his great-grand aunt, 

She was a lady free. 

9 1 . Says, Go for me this. 9 3 . O do go it for me. 

9 4 . I '11 do as much. 10 1 . Go bring to. 

10 9 . Dress him in silk. 

10*. For if he lives and bruiks his life. 

10 4 . He is to heir my. 

II 1 . hailing through the closs. 12 1 . I am come. 

12 3 . Dress him in silk. 12. lives. 

13 1 , 14 1 O was. 13. that bairn from my foot. 

14 2 . Altho in station high. 

14 s . Durst take that bairn from. 

15 1 ' 3 . Now she got frowning throw the closs, 

And frowning on the floor. 
15*. And he 
16M. O this was the worst errand, Patrick, 

That ever I went for the. 
16 s Birdlsabeal 
1 7 1 ' 2 . He looked right surprised like, 

Amazed like looked be 
17 4 . She was never. 

18 1 . And ho went hailing throw the closs. 
20 l , 21 1 . I say. 

20*. Dare take that bairn from my foot. 
2 1 2 . Altho in station high. 21 8 . Dare take that. 
22*. You wont get. 

269. Lord Thomas Stuart. 

P. 425. Found in a MS. of Charles Kirkpatrick 
Sharpe, and in " North Country Ballads," Miscellanea 
Curiosa, Abbotsford Library, which is another copy of 
the same pieces. 
Sharpe, p. 5. I 1 . Thomas Steuart he. 

1*. mukle mean (an erasure before mean). 

1*. the coat 3 1 . weraen's wits is. 4*. steeds was. 

5*. so sick. 6 1 . no leech. 

7 1 leeches is come and leeches is gone. 7* I am. 

9*. lands and. 10*. got all my lands. 

II 1 . in their. ll a . could not. 11 leesh. 

13* And as. 

14*. I fear it may be mony unco lord. 

14*. from the. 15'. I fear it is mony unco lord. 

With variations of spelling not noted. 

Scott (as above, except) I 9 , mickle land : land was 

perhaps the word which is blotted out in Sharpe. 
S 1 . women's. 

263. The New-Slain Knight. 
P. 484 b. Translated also by Gerhard, p. 168. 

VOL. V. 
266. John Thomson and the Turk. 

P. 3 b. There may be added another Little- Russian 
story communicated to me in translation by Professor 
Wollner : Ethnographic Survey, etc. (Etnografic'eskoe 
Obozrenie, etc.) Moscow, 1893, V, 104. 

A tsar and a tsarina, when dying, charged their son 
Soliman not to marry a woman older than himself. 
This, however, he did, and his wife hated him, and one 
day, when he was hunting, went off to her brother, 
ordering the servants to say that she had died. This 
report the servants duly made, but Soliman knew that 
his wife had gone to her brother, and he felt the loss 
BO much that he could not keep away from her. Meet- 
ing a boy in tattered clothes, he changed with him, 
gave the boy everything he had on except his ring, and 
put on rags, to play the beggar. He proceeded to the 
brother's house, and seeing his wife sitting at a win- 
dow, held out his band, on which his ring was spark- 
ling, and asked an alms. His wife knew him at once 
by the ring, and bade him come in. Who are you? ' 
she asked. * Once I was a tsar,' he said, * but my wife 
died, and I became a beggar.' At this point the 
brother arrived on the scene. The woman told Soli- 
man to lie down on the threshold; he did so, and she 
sat down on him. When her brother came in she said, 
1 Guess what I am sitting on/ He answered, ( On the 
threshold.' ' Wrong,' said she; ' on Tsar Soliman/ If 
it is he,' said her brother, I will cut his head off/ 
But here Soliman suggested that if the brother should 
take his head off on the spot, nobody would know that 
he had killed a tsar ; whereas if he would build a 
three-story gallows and hang Soliman on it, all the 
world would see that he had been the death of a tsar 
and not of a beggar. So a three -story gallows was 
built, and as they were taking Soliman up to the first 
stage, he said, Give me a horn, to cheer my heart for 
the last time. They gave him a horn and he began to 
blow, Quick, quick, dear soldiers, for my death and 
end is nigh. A black regiment set out for the place. 
Bystanders said, Tsar Soliman, you are up high and 
see far : what is the black thing coming along the hill ? 
' My death, which gleams black in the distance/ Soli- 
man mounted to the second stage and blew his horn 



again : Quick, quick, dear soldiers, my death and end 
is nigh. He saw a white regiment coming. The 
people said, Tsar Soliman, you are high up and see 
far: what is that white thing which is coming? My 
death, which gleams white in the distance. Then 
Soliman mounted to the third stage and blew Quick, 
quick, dear soldiers, my death and end is nigh, and he 
saw a red regiment coming. The people asked, what 
red thing was coming. My death, which gleams red 
in the distance.* Then the black regiment came up, 
after it the white, and finally the red ; they slew Soli- 
man's wife and her brother, took Soliman down from 
the gallows, and rode home. 

8. Danish. Through the friendly help of Dr. Axel 
Olrik I am now in a position to say that there is one 
fundamental text A, in MSS of 1600 and 1615, from 
which all the others are derived. In the seventeenth 
century A was expanded from forty to eighty-two 
couplets. B, the original of the expanded copy, is 
found in a MS. of 1635; from B come the other five 
later MS. texts, the flying-sheet of 1719, Kristensen's 
fragment, and some recent copies. 

A. King David, after betrothing the incomparable 
Suol-far, has to go on a cruise. He proposes that the 
lady stay with his mother while he is away, but Suol- 
far does not like this arrangement. Then, says the 
king, I shall bind your finger with gold, so that I can 
find you wherever you may be. Hardly is King David 
gone, when King Adell rides up. Suol-far is out of 
doors, brushing her hair ; Adell asks if he may put a 
gold crown on it. If God grants King David to come 
home with honor, she will soon have a gold crown to 
wear, she says. Adell wishes to hear no more of 
David, and asks Suol-far to plight herself to him ; she 
will not, she has given her troth to King David. Adell 
gives her sleeping potions five, sleeping potions nine ; 
she swoons, is taken to be dead, and is buried in the 
church. Late in the evening Adell goes to the tomb ; 
the effect of the potions having passed off, Suol-far 
rises. Adell asks her to go off with him, and after some 
tears Suol-far permits him to take her away. It had 
been supposed that there was no witness, but a little 
page was listening, and when King David came home 
the page gave him the bad tidings that King Adell 
had carried Suol-far out of the country. David goes 
in quest, disguised as a pilgrim. He finds the pair 
sitting on a stone, resting their weary legs, and asks an 
alms. Adell gives something, and Suol-far is at least 
about so to do, for David asks, Is it not the way in this 
country to give money with bare hand ? whereupon she 
pulls off her glove and gives. David (seeing of course 
the token on her finger) draws his sword and kills 
Adell. He then asks Suol-far how she came to break 
her troth. Adell gave her nine drinks, which made 
her fall dead to the earth, but, thank God, she had 
been kept from sin. David loves her so dearly that he 

In the original, apparently by exchange of like sound- 
ing words, My death which is cut short ; that is, I suppose, 
prevented or postponed. 

is easily satisfied; he orders hit wedding, and their 
troubles are over. 

The flying-sheet of 1719 (in seventy-three couplets) 
exhibits some differences. King David marries Selfehr 
before he goes on his expedition, and gives the land 
into Adel's care during his absence. After the queen 
has fallen aswoon in consequence of the nine drinks, 
King Adel sends word to King David that she is dead. 
After the interment, Adel remains in the church and 
digs up Selfehr. He addresses her as his dearest; she 
refuses to be so called. Adel tells her that David is 
dead, and asks her if she will follow him out of the 
land. She will follow him very willingly if she may 
hear of no grief to King David (whatever that may 
mean), and Adel wraps her in a cloak and lifts her on 
his gray. There had been watchmen in the church, 
and they tell David that Adel is off with Selfehr. 
David has pilgrim's clothes made for himself and many 
of his men. While asking alms, David gives the queen 
to understand that he is her husband ; then turning to 
Adel says, I entrusted my kingdom to you, and did not 
look to be deceived. Upon this he orders his troop to 
spare none of Adel's men, and himself hews Adel in 
pieces. The queen falls at his feet and begs forgive- 
ness. The easy king says, I know the fault was not 
thine, lifts her on his horse, and goes home. 

The two Swediah copies in Stephen's collection 
are fragments of eight and of fifteen stanzas. In the 
first (from Sedermanland), King David having dug up 
the coffin and found it empty, disguises himself as a 
pilgrim, and when asking an alms of Solfager says, 

Travelled have I by water and land, 
But never took alms from a gloved hand. 

4 Who are you for a vagabond, that never took alms 
from a gloved hand ? ' says Solfager. ' Never was I a 
vagabond, but often have I kissed Solfager's hand,' he 
replies. Solfager jumps into his arms, exclaiming, I 
never can believe you are my former true-love. 

In the other (from Smaland), after the abduction of 
Solfager, David takes staff in hand and goes to a 
strange land. He presents himself where the pair are 
sitting at table, and asks an alms. Solfager gives him 
alms once and twice, but the beggar is not satisfied. 
Needy vagrant, she says, take alms where you can ; 
insatiable vagrant, take alms where you get most. I 
was no vagrant, he answers, when I put gold rings on 
Solfager's arm; I was no vagrant when I slept by Sol- 
fager. Her tears come ; she can never believe that he 
is David, her true-love. She takes David in her arms. 
Praise to God, he cries, that I am still her husband ! 

271. The Lord of Lorn and the False 

P. 45. Other Russian popular tales in which the 
characteristic traits of the group spoken of are well 
preserved: Afanasief, V, 178, No 87, ed. 1861, I, 289, 



No 67 b, ed. 1878, Tsarevitch i yevo Sluga ; ' Koro- 
levitch i yevo Djadka,' the same, VIII, 170, No 18, 
ed. 1863, 1, 283, No 67 a,ed. 1873; Khudyakof, II, 83, 
No44, 'Udivitelny Muzbitchek;' the same, III, 148, 
No 115, 4 Muzhitchenko B Kulatchenko.' A tsar's son 
delivers a prisoner ; is condemned to leave the country 
with a servant (tutor, warden) ; having been let down 
into a well to drink, is forced to change positions and 
clothes with his attendant ; serves as herdsman, horse- 
boy, cook, the attendant aspiring to marry a king's 
daughter ; destroys three dragons (a seven-headed mon- 
ster in the second, the fourth defective here) ; marries 
the princess, the servant or tutor being put to death 
(baited with dogs in the third, set to work in the 
stable in the fourth).* 

Afanasief, IV, 72, ed. 1873, refers to other Russian 
versions, and gives, p. 73 ., the Russian form of ' The 

46 b. Add : (P.) Ivan Tsarevitch i Martha-Tsar- 
evna, Afanasief, I, 227, No 21, 1863, I, 246, No 68, 
1873. (O.) 'Masenzhni Dzjadok,' the same, V, 185, 
No 38, 1861, I, 254, No 69, 1873. (H.) 'Kidsut,' 
Sbornik of the Bulgarian Ministry of Education, III, 
II, 222. (I.) ' Der Konigssohn und der Bartlose,' 
Hahn, Griechische u. Albanesische Marchen, I, 233, No 
37. (1.) The son of a king liberates a prisoner (man 
of iron and copper, bird with human voice), F, G 
(stealing the key from his mother, O). (2.) The 
prince is under the necessity of leaving the country, 
F-I (is attended by a beardless man, H, I). (3.) To 
get out of a well has to consent to change clothes and 
position (with the beardless man, whom he had allowed 
to join him, or who had been hired as horse-driver), 
H, I. (4 ) King's daughter (fair maid with golden 
locks, I) aspired to by a low fellow, F, H, I. (5.) Prince 
figures as stable-boy or scullion, F, O, I, kills three 
dragons, F, defeats an army, Q, accomplishes three 
tasks, H, I. (6.) Prince marries princess, F, G-, H 
(marries Golden Locks, I), treacherous competitor ban- 
ished, F, hanged, H, thrown into boiling oil, I.* 

274. Our Goodman. 

P. 89 f. French. Add: La Tradition, VH, 145, 
Le Quercy. 

275. Get up and bar the Door. 

P. 95. Add two other Eastern stories : ' The Farmer, 
his Wife and the Open Door,' in Swynnerton's Indian 
Nights Entertainment, 1892, p. 14, No 11; 'The Beg- 
gar and the Five Muffins ' (of the second set), Folk- 
lore in Southern India by Pandet Nate* si Sastrl, p. 277, 

* I have to thank Professor Wollner for giving me in 
translation the two tales from Afanasief and a Bulgarian 
tale presently to be mentioned. 

t In the Greek tale, I, the prince confides nil trouble to 
VOL. v. 36 

No 22, and Tales of the Sun, by Mrs Howard Kings- 
cote and the same, p. 280, No 25. (Both cited by Mr 
Clouston, in The Athenaeum, March 18, 1893.) 

To be Corrected in the Print. 

I, 62, 68. A. The Jamieson-Brown MS. should be 
cited by pages, not by folios. This correction applies 
also to Nos 6 b, 10 B, a, 32 a, 34 B, a, 85, 53, A, C, 
a, 62 E, 63 B, a, 65 A, 76 D, 82, 96 A, 97 A, a, 98 
A, 99 A, 101 A, 103 A. 

69 b, 61*. Read rauked. 

188 a, B o, ll. I '11. b, 26*, 27, 28 1 . JfS. tune 

(copy wrong). 

305 b, notes, 10 1 . tauchty, etc. Drop. 
342, 39 1 . Read what. 
482 a, D. Insert 13 s . bone. 

II, 32 b, 6th line from below. For B read J. 

101 b, 5th line of last paragraph. Read II, 246. 
101 b, last line but four. Read II, 245. 
128 b, 2d line of 2d paragraph. Read B 18. 
169 a, last line but two. Supply A before 2 4 . 
234 a, 5th line, larf is dropped m Herd 1L 
316 a, notes, 6 2 . Read bowers. 
367 a, C 34 . The MS. reading is dead syne. 
373 b, 21 2 . Read grey. 

429 a, last line but three of text Read 80 for 88. 
477 a, D. All the variations except ll l , 14 4 , apply 
to C, not to D. 

III, 11 b, last line but two. Supply C before 4*. 
49 a, 12th line. Read alcaldes. 

51 b, last two lines. Read (extracted from His- 
toire Litt. de la France, XXX), p. 49. 

122 b, 6th line. Read No 185. 

146 a, 14*. Read delt/or felt (felt, all copies). 

179 b, 5 s . Read clutt/or cliitt. 

183 a, notes, A 5*. Add : clutt was no doubt in- 

280, 59*. Read kickle. 

230, 70. Read For which. 

232, 108 1 . Read un possible, 

232, 116*. Read leave out. 

477 a, line 6. Read Laird's. 

516 a, 95, line 7. Read Birkbeck. 

517 b, last paragraph of 96, last line but one. 
Read des. 

518 b. The notes to HI, 44 belong under No 117. 

IV, 33 a, last line but one. Read 10*. 
44 b, 9 s . Read as he. 

254 b, notes. For J read K. 
275 a, B b, 6 1 . Read white-milk. 

281 a, 2*. Read and bane. 

282 a, 8*. Read behind my. 

an old lame horse. The coincidence here with the ballad 
does not go very far, and may be an accident, but may be 
more than that 



288 a, B, 5*. Read toss. P in in the handwrit- 
ing of John Hill Barton. 

290 b, line 6. Read 7 

201 b, notes, B, 8 4 . Drop. 

831 b, 8 1 . Read out for not 

889 b, lines 5, 6. Read Belhelvie, the name of an 
Aberdeenshire parish. 

887 b, last line but one of note. Read owes its. 

892, 21 1 . Read you for yon. 

408 a, notes, A, 2d line. Read 22 4 , S3'. Cf. 18. 

487 b, 25 1 . Read Well fells. 

440 b, 4, 3d paragraph, line 3. Read Coussemaker. 

447 b, note to 5, after st. 17. Read in a. 

455 a, 3 4 . Read wi gowd. 

470 a, 20*, 21*. Read